Becoming Potter
by sunneedee
Summary: WIP SLASH AU set in fourth year. The Boy Who Lived finds out he's not quite himself anymore and Draco Malfoy suddenly finds he has rather large shoes to fill…a body switch tale where an unlikely pair themselves abruptly thrown into each other's company with unexpected results
1. 1

Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy couldn't have said precisely when it began to happen.

He certainly noticed when he started having to pluck dark hairs from his upper lip - he didn't dare shave them in case he was left with an unsightly five o-clock shadow.

He _had _begun to wonder when his fingers no longer seemed to feel right on the piano keys, but then he had put that down to lack of practice.

And when his voice had grown very slightly deeper, he had come to the naturally expected conclusion.

But the dark hairs on his upper lip had him stumped.

Malfoys were _blond. _Draco was a Malfoy in every sense of the word, he had been born with startlingly white hair, as had his father Lucius, and Abraxas before him, and all the hundreds of Malfoys before _him_. Each one had luscious blond locks, and the facial hair and their other body hair was blond too.

There were no exceptions.

_And I'm not about to become one, _he thought, leaning close to the mirror, tweezers at the ready and braced to wince.

The first day Harry woke up and noticed a change in himself was a Tuesday, and the reason he remembered it so well was that he opened his eyes, yawned and read the day on the calendar.

That particular phenomenon escaped him, until he reached to take his glasses of and realised he wasn't wearing them, and what was more, the calendar was on his bedside table, and by rights should be nothing more than a blurry white square when he wasn't wearing his glasses.

Harry looked in a dazed manner from the calendar to his spectacles which sat innocently beside it, the sun twinkling off the lens.

A slow smile spread over his features.

Draco was beginning to panic as his birthday drew ever near.

He didn't know what it was; his trousers were a tad too short, his sleeves ever so slightly too long, his fingers were tripping over his piano keys, and he found himself having to take deep breaths and count to ten when he allowed himself to think of the other things.

All he could guess was that someone had cursed him.

The odd moustache hairs were a problem of the past; he now had taken to bleaching all his facial hair every morning, which was more often than he shaved, but he just couldn't bear to wait and see how much the damage had spread.

His eyes were getting feverishly bright.

He had a rash of some sort on his head - a _rash!_

And worst of all, he was getting grey hairs. When he had first noticed that, he had cast a bleaching charm at his full head in horror, and he'd started to do so daily, even though he didn't know if the pestilence would continue.

The same day of the grey hair incident, he'd decided to take action. He needed help.

His mother and father had decided to spend the summer in France, leaving Draco to his own devices, and even if they had been home he wasn't sure he would to divulge his problem to them.

His father might begin to fear, as Draco was, that the Malfoy gene was defective in him, because Malfoys didn't get dark hairs during puberty, and if premature aging induced by exam stress or such rot was the problem, it still didn't explain why he was getting grey hairs rather than white like all his Malfoy ancestors.

His mother might not care so much if Draco was taking after her side of the family rather than his fathers but, well, you just don't approach a woman like Narcissa with health problems. Any childhood illnesses had been taken care of by the house elves, and they had taken little Draco to St Mungo's if there was anything they couldn't heal themselves. He was sure his mother would look mildly repulsed and call Dippy to take him to Healer Stantrout.

Well Draco was too old to be escorted by house elves, so he had performed the bleaching spell again for luck, put on his favourite cloak (the one with the emeralds set into the catch), and floo-d to St Mungo's.

He had left half an hour later, and to say he was in a tizzy would be an understatement of huge proportions.

He had had a long and uncomfortable wait in a packed waiting room, and Healer Stantrout wasn't even in, so he'd had to see Healer Tupple instead - a dumpy woman with grey hair pulled back into a tight plait which was so long it brushed the carpet.

Draco had described his various symptoms and sat back to wait for a potion to be prescribed. Healer Tupple had then asked him to remove his bleaching charm, which had left him spluttering in outrage. He would have thrown an outright tantrum, had she not demonstrated how little concern she had for ousting a Malfoy unceremoniously from her office, so Draco had acquiesced.

He had been left stunned when he and the Healer had stood side by side in front of a mirror as he removed the charm.

He was _repulsive_.

The rash on his forehead was getting worse, his hair was a peppery grey colour throughout - even his face didn't look the right shape! If he hadn't shaved that morning, he knew he'd be able to see dark hairs beginning to show under his translucent skin.

"Well your hair is greying somewhat," Healer Tupple said thoughtfully. "though I don't know if there are any other changes."

"Somewhat?! No other changes?!" Draco said, aghast "I'm hideous! Can't you see, I look feverish! My eyes are changing colour, they were _grey_, not this unsightly turquoise shade!"

"Now now," Tupple said, her voice soothing "I'm sure you've just been stressed at school recently - stress is the most common cause of premature greying in young people."

"I'm a _Malfoy_, I don't _grey_, especially not prematurely!" Draco snapped, but his tone had earned him nothing but an invitation to leave the room, so he did so, making sure to re-bleach his head first.

"Is there nothing you can do?" he asked desperately before the door closed in his face.

"Just try not to worry so much," Tupple replied "and if you really think there are other changes, take measurements and chart them and come back in a month."

"A month!" Draco exclaimed angrily as the door closed in front of him.

Draco wanted to scream with frustration every morning when he took a note of his measurements. He had sent Dippy off to find a tape measure, but no matter how often he took notes on the length of his fingers, arms, legs, the diameter of his face, the distance between his eyes and the size of his ears, the results were always too minimal to be of note.

It had been four days, and when he looked in the mirror he could _see _the difference, but the tape measure said it was only, at best, a millimetre in difference in one or two places. He suspected it was cursed too.

It was his birthday tomorrow, and he suspected his father might come home for a few hours to bring him his gifts. Mother rarely came home when she was spending time in France, she detested the British weather and the Malfoy Paris townhouse suited her sociable nature because it meant she could go shopping with her female friends whenever she wanted without the deplorable necessity of having to get ash on her clothes when taking the floo.

What if his father could see the difference too? Draco hoped he wouldn't notice, because he was sure Lucius would disapprove.

…000...

His baby son closed his tiny hand around his fingers and gurgled up at his father happily.

The sight of the smiling cherub face beneath the blond curls almost made him turn back. So innocently unsuspecting, gazing around at the world in the accepting wide-eyed gaze of a soul too young to know that the world, so big and new, wasn't safe, even when he was wrapped up in daddy's arms.

He had his mother's jaw line already, and the beginnings of what Lucius just knew would be fine looks. But not for long, if things went well.

He steeled himself. The Dark Lord had asked for a child. He'd asked Lucius to bring him one.

"I believe _you_ have a son, Lucius? How convenient. Have him here tomorrow at midnight."

It was too much to bear. He wanted to please his lord, but family, it _always_ came first. Blood was important, and none more pure than that of the baby in his arms, distilled by nine generations of exclusively pure-blood breeding. Much, much more if one went back further than the family trees showed.

His lord wanted to be immortal. He'd hinted he'd achieved his goal, but Lucius, despite how much he wanted to, couldn't believe it. If such a thing were possible, why wasn't Merlin still with the wizarding world? Why was Dumbledore withering away? One couldn't count the legendary philosopher's stone, created by Flamel…true immortality could not rely on taking regular doses of a substance.

The Dark Lord wanted a child to sacrifice - to experiment with protective enchantments, he'd said. The blood of the innocent could shield the Dark Lord from innumerable threats.

But he wasn't going to experiment on his little Dragon.

Torn between his master and his son, Lucius let only a single tear drop as he kissed little Draco on the forehead. Holding him against his lips for only a second, he closed his eyes and for a moment tried to enjoy his son while he still had one.

Then, not looking at the baby's smiling face, he held him away from his body, and used a somnus charm to put the child to sleep.

There was only minutes to spare.

The laughing couple he knew were just around the corner could not suspect that the juggling wizard on the unicycle was no more than a diversion. The problem was, the father was holding his son, pointing out the ridiculous man to the giggling baby.

Lucius pulled the invisibility cloak from one of his deep pockets and covered himself and his son. It had cost him a fortune from Borgin & Burkes, but what was money to him in a desperate situation with so little time?

The wizard continued to juggle and make absurd noises, and Lucius knew he only had so much time before the couple moved on. Already the mother was beginning to look restless.

He raised his wand.

"_Imperio!"_

Without removing his eyes from the wizard on the unicycle, James Potter seemed to absentmindedly let his child slip, wriggling, from his arms to the cobbled streets. The child shrieked in delight, and started to run around, attracting the mother's startled attention, but another quick imperio took care of that.

After that, as if sensing Lucius's need, the child toddled over to a shop window mere feet away, and reached out to something shiny in the display. A quick _notice-me-not _charm and Lucius moved swifty to grab the child and before it knew what was wrong it was in the alley way, and a spell later, fell asleep in Lucius' arms. He carelessly let him slip to the floor, laying Draco beside him.

Focring himself not to think, not to feel, Lucius Malfoy held his wand to the head of his son, closed his eyes an began to mutter a low, rhythmic chant. Pausing for breath, he didn't open his eyes, but moved his wand to the forehead of the Potter baby and began again.

It tore at his heart, to cast Imperio on his own son, and watch him wake up. Green eyes horribly blank under the curse, the little boy scrambled to his feet, getting dirt on the knees of trousers that another mother had lovingly picked out for another child.

Lucius watched with an empty heart as the baby moved towards James Potter, who suddenly noticed his empty arms, and scooped up the child without a second thought as it reached his legs.

Removing all three imperios, James Potter noticed nothing, the mudblood wife frowned and looked around in confusion, and the baby looked for his father and began to cry.

Lucius scooped up the irrelevant bundle that was Harry Potter and apparated away to where the slaughter would take place.

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters, they belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any profit from this fic, it's purely for fun.


	2. 2

Chapter 2

"My - lord?" Lucius said uncertainly, lowering the child and scrambling to his feet.

"You heard me," the Dark Lord said dismissively "your son will not be needed. From now on, our efforts will be focussed on tracking down this Potter boy. The information I received is from a trustworthy source, and once I eliminate this threat we may resume the sacrificial charms, but as for now, you may keep your heir." His mouth curled into a cruel smile as his red eyes bore down on Lucius, who hurriedly ducked his head.

"My lord. Thank you." he forced the words out, but they were bitter in his mouth. If only he could hand over the boy now…but he would not be rewarded. He could think of no plausible excuse for having tried to hand over Harry Potter when he had been specifically asked to give Draco.

After all his efforts…what were the odds that the family he chose partly just because they were on Diagon Alley that day, and partly because they would never be forced to choose to sacrifice their son, would be the family marked for death?

…000...

Harry couldn't help feeling pleased when he noticed his refection on the side of Vernon's car. He'd been washing it all afternoon and had almost finished polishing it. He could smell the aroma of pizza coming from the house, and even though he knew he'd probably only get a few leftovers, he would be happy to have them because it was the one food he missed when he was in the wizarding world. Maybe he would ask Dobby to try and persuade the Hogwarts house elves to make it for the school's dinner one night.

He patted down his hair in awe, leaning down to take abetter look at his reflection in the car's side mirror. It had never looked so…_flat. _It even looked silky. It _felt _silky.

He wasn't sure what to think. Maybe he had used Aunt Petunia's shampoo by accident. He winced, thinking of what might happen if she noticed.

He'd liked that his hair looked just like his dad's had, but it would be nice if he could tame it like this every now and again so that people like Mrs Weasley and Aunt Petunia wouldn't attack him with combs and hairbrushes whenever he had to go somewhere important.

_Oh well, I might as well enjoy it while it lasts._

…000...

_The Dark Lord could not find the Potter family…I could not either…it was a hopeless cycle of events, and the Dark Lord could not know that I was trying so hard to complete the mission not for him, but for you, my son._

_Yet now I sit at my desk, the night after the night you were to be killed. I was there, in Godric's Hollow, but I did not dare to snatch you from beneath my masters wand, but no matter…you, my miraculous son, survived._

_I had no way of knowing that you were alive…I fled in shame…my son and my master were both dead to my eyes, and only hours later did I find out the truth._

_By that time it was too late - you had been placed into care in a safe place which I could not access. Perhaps it was for the best. I know that the child was spoilt, and while I do not wish that for you, at least you will have been happy. No doubt the guardians of Potter will have smothered you with gifts of all descriptions._

_Forget them. I tell you, those gifts are truly from I, who is unable to give you any. They are empty tokens from people to a boy who you are not, but I am your father, and I would have wanted to give you every gift you deserve. What is more, your blood is Pure. I cannot know what you have been brought up to believe, but I suspect the worst. Know only that you are special, and wizards of your calibre are rare. Whatever you think you know or believe on the subject, as your father I beg you to forget it and research it further with an open mind and you will uncover a truth that shakes you to the bone. I grew up with the knowledge myself, but when you find it, you will understand._

_Lastly my son, I must let you know that you cannot speak to me of this. I have spent the past three years trying to break the enchantment I put on the Potter boy I have in my possession, and without any headway. I have tried to find you every day, but you are too well hidden. No spell, no owl, no spy, nor I myself can find you. The time has come to stop. Even now your mother spends her nights crying because she cannot understand why I can no longer show affection towards the child, and I myself am wracked by guilt, anger and even madness at times. It has to stop. Once I have written this letter and cast the charm to bring it to you on your fourteenth birthday - by which time the enchantment on your appearance should begin to dissolve - I plan to obliviate myself. I cannot live in such unhappiness, and whilst I would rather cast the other child aside, it would kill your mother, and so by making myself forget, I will be able to act the part better._

_I am sorry I shall not be able to speak to you about this, but at least you can know when you see me that I am your real father and the love I show for you is real. It is time for you to take your place as a Malfoy, with your mother and I. The Potter boy will have received his instructions and knows he is to switch places with you discreetly._

_Good luck, Dragon,_

_Your father._

…000...

On the morning of Draco's fourteenth birthday, he woke up in the peaceful silence of the manor.

It was always quiet at home - even when the whole family was there, there was so much space, and so many softly carpeted corridors between them that they might as well have been on different continents.

For a few minutes he lay curled on his side, comfortable with his head on his arm in his silk bed sheets, just listening to the silence. Somewhere on the grounds, he hear a peacock call and he gritted his teeth.

He didn't know why father kept the things, they were running rabid, multiplying all over the grounds and when he was a child the blasted creatures used to try to attack him if he didn't have a house elf with him. Even now he was always cautious when wandering around the grounds, through a childish fear he hadn't managed to shake off.

He was distracted from his thoughts by the sudden appearance of a letter on the bedclothes before him.

Draco stared at it as it sat innocently in front of him. He sat up, pushing himself up on his arm and searched the room quickly through narrowed eyes, but could see no sign of a owl. Perhaps it was a portkey to France? He doubted it, his parents liked to keep Paris for themselves, and he hadn't visited the town house since he was eight. Still, he could always hope.

He looked down at the letter, frowning and picked it up, nearly dropping it when he felt a jolt of magic spark at his finger tips, but was disappointed when it didn't react more to his touch other than a constant throb of slowly a fading charm. The parchment felt worn and, unrolling it, he sneezed as dust filled the air. Waving the dust away, he could see his father's handwriting and a smile settled on his face. Father _had _written to him after all!

_To the one who calls himself by my son's name,_

Draco stared at the letter, bemused.

_You will recently have noticed some changes in your physical appearance…_

From that point onward, Draco forgot that he could pause and put the letter down. His eyes skipped ahead, devouring the letter. The tingle of magic in the parchment began to frighten him as he began to understand the power of the charm that had brought it to him. His eyes skipped over the parchment as a cold dead weight clenched his heart. His eyes were moving across each line with more deliberation now, and as they reached the last paragraph, his hands started to shake.

_In the end, you are not my son, and I forbid you to reveal this to anyone, bar the real Draco who should already know by now. You will return to your proper place quickly, and without fuss. In any case, you will have no choice but to do so as the dark spell I used cannot be used twice, and if you delay it will quickly become obvious who you really are. I don't know where Potter is, but you WILL find him. This is not your place, and if you remain here too long, the manor wards will deal with you and you will be forcibly ejected. You will know how unpleasant that is. I give you six months before that happens, though your appearance will betray you long before that. Find my son, and restore him to his rightful place._

Draco fell back onto his pillows in shock, the letter falling from his hand to the floor. It was all he could do to keep breathing.

Meanwhile, in Little Whinging, Harry Potter stared blankly at his own letter as it fluttered to the floor.

…000...

Once he had passed the obligatory period of denial, Harry couldn't ignore the signs of truth showing in his face. His skin had an unhealthy pallor that he had always identified with Malfoy, his hands were delicate, his face was thinner and more pointed. He couldn't argue that things were not as they should be when he first noticed flecks of white blond through his hair.

He almost couldn't believe how elated he'd been when he'd realised he no longer had to wear glasses. It felt like a curse now.

He couldn't remember if he'd ever felt so empty. Ever since he was a tiny child, the feelings of love and warmth towards the distant, blurred figures that were his mother and father had kept him company at night when he lay curled up alone in his cupboard. He'd only had the image of James and Lily Potter to attach those feelings to when Hagrid had given him his photo album in first year, but now the realisation of who those photographs _should _have shown gnawed at the back of his mind constantly and he couldn't feel anything but mixed disgust and confusion when he tried to raise those loving feelings again.

Lily and James hadn't even known. To them he would be a nobody, a strange teenager in the street who could have been anyone's son.

But why did it have to be _their _son?

He sat slumped against the hedge in the front garden. Aunt Petunia wouldn't like him sitting out here in view of passers by, but then she wasn't his aunt anymore

It gave him an odd feeling to know that somewhere his real parents were alive and well, but the disappointment curdled in his belly because of who they were. If their son was the wizarding version of Dudley, then Lucius and Narcissa were the wizard version of Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, but they were far more dangerous.

_Out of the frying pan and into the fire, _Harry thought miserably.

He could feel tears welling up, but he forced them down. Hagrid had been wrong, and he, at eleven had known the truth. He was nothing special, no matter what Lucius and his pure-blood bigotry thought. No wonder it had felt too good to be true. He _was _'just Harry' - but not even that. Now he was 'just - ' - but he couldn't even make himself say it. In any case, his real name was far too pretentious sounding for it to have the same effect.

Draco Malfoy would make a good Boy-Who-Lived. He loved the limelight, he knew how to please a crowd. He had been practically _groomed _for the role. All these years, Harry had judged him for his arrogant posturing, when he had more right to it than Harry. He couldn't even bring himself to scorn Malfoy for the way he had always insinuated Harry was milking his position for all it was worth. He wasn't wrong. He hadn't even really been Harry Potter.

The letter had said to expect a visit from the real Harry Potter shortly. Harry hoped he didn't come. He hoped he did. He wanted to tear him apart with his bare hands.

He'd never felt a hate so all-consuming. Who was this boy who had stolen his mother and father from him, stolen his very being, just by existing? Harry wanted to know him in intimate detail, starting by ripping his insides from his breathing body and examining them first hand.

He thought of the blond, sneering figure he'd hated all these years.

_That _was Lily's son.

He couldn't even be glad to lose Vernon and Petunia, because he would be getting something much worse in return.

He had to take deep breaths to suppress his tears whenever he thought of the letter. He'd have given anything, _anything, _for a letter so full of love and affection from his father. Well now he had one, but it was torture to read and it provided him with no comfort, only tears, and tonight nightmares no doubt.

Why had Lucius had to pick Harry Potter?

Days, weeks passed, and Harry watched his reflection grow less and less like him every day. His face developed a fine bone structure that it had never had before, and his scar had faded to a pinkish blur on his forehead.

The first time he received a letter addressed to Draco Malfoy, he'd been so surprised that he'd read it.

_My son,_

_Calliope Montpellier has finally agreed to design a pair of dress robes for me for our Yule Ball this year, would you like me to order you some too? Her daughter is around your age and she seems quite eager for the pair of you to meet, and I know you'd love to visit Paris. A party or two with Sabine as your dance partner would be lovely, and it's not an unreasonable exchange for a gift of Montpelier robes, especially as your father was quite put out when he found out how much I spent last month. She's a pretty girl - red hair, but it's a lovely deep red, medium height and she's well known for her dress sense, although it's not surprising with Calliope as her mother._

_I know you like ivory buttons but I think the crystal ones compliment the emerald silk better, I hope you don't mind if I order them instead of your usual?_

_Anyway, I hope Dippy hasn't been a nuisance, I know she likes to keep an eye on you but please remember she's the only elf that can make soufflés to an acceptable standard before you lose your temper at her. Remind her to keep tending the rose bushes for me darling._

_Send a reply when you can,_

_Love, _

_Mother_

He'd set down the letter and stared at it for a long time, hands shaking. It seemed that his magical signature had changed, now identifying him as Draco Malfoy, if he was now receiving his post. It probably wouldn't be long until he changed completely over.

The casual, prattling and rather shallow note from Narcissa was almost too much to bear. The woman he'd idolised, grown up to know as 'mum' was a stranger with no connection to him, and now he was receiving loving familial letters from a woman he'd always despised, and even though he _was _her son, she wasn't really thinking of _him _as she wrote it.

It hurt.

Harry had ignored the letter he received a week later. From the neatly calligraphed _'son' _on the front, he deduced it was from Lucius. It came with a package, but he simply removed it from the owl and set it down. He didn't open it, or look at it again.

He didn't receive many more letters addressed to Draco Malfoy that summer, but those that he did, he set aside without a second glance. He vaguely wondered if Malfoy was receiving letters from Ron and Hermione. He tried not to think about it, or indeed anything, and threw himself into the gardening that Aunt Petunia wanted done.

The thought crossed his mind whether Malfoy was going to bother coming to see him at all, and if he didn't, how he was going to handle turning up at school looking like someone else. He didn't think he could stand to see the smarmy look on Malfoy's face when he came to gloat that he was Harry Potter now. He had all Harry's money, and his parents, and his fame. Now Harry just had money.

When Harry had checked the mirror one morning and saw his eyes had faded to an icy grey, he felt something die inside him along with the last remnant of his mother in his appearance. Even Vernon and Petunia noticed the changes in him after that, but Harry simply told them he was practicing morphing into other people as a disguise mechanism under Dumbledore's orders. That shut them up, but afterwards, Dudley couldn't seem to stop staring at him in fascination and Petunia forbade him to leave the house.

That made him wonder, not for the first time, what Dumbledore would have to say about all this, but he didn't even want to think about that complication. Sometimes he still lay awake, shaking just when he thought too much about everything that had happened, and what his friends would say.

A few days later, he received a roughly bundled package wrapped in brown paper, 'Draco Malfoy' scrawled on the outside in messy calligraphy, and on recognising his arch nemesis' handwriting, opened it_. _

Several letters addressed to Harry Potter fell out, one of which had been opened. He guessed this was his mail, which Malfoy had received. He blankly started reading the opened letter, then made his way through the realms of scolding from Hermione who seemed to take it as a personal affront that he hadn't been replying. There was one from the headmaster, telling him he'd pick Harry up to take to the platform on September 1st. Only one of the letters was from Ron, who although he also seemed concerned at the lack of response, included the information that Harry was to be collected on his birthday to go to The Burrow.

He dropped the letter in a mild panic; his birthday was in three days, and he couldn't let his friends see him like this. He was nearly fully blond, and his resemblance to Malfoy was unmistakeable.

He's spent a long time thinking about it already, but now was the time for decisions. He was worried about how Ron would react to finding out that Harry was really a Malfoy, but he thought - he hoped -his friends would ultimately both stand by him. Dumbledore though…would he be angry he had wasted so much time and effort on a boy who wasn't even Harry Potter? Where would that leave him? Would Dumbledore whisk away Draco Malfoy to be trained to defeat Voldemort? Where would Harry go? Would he be abandoned at the Malfoys' mercy?

He didn't think he could handle it, but he'd have to wait for Malfoy to bother his arse to come and visit him so that they could decide what to do. He didn't really know why he was so concerned that Malfoy should help him decide - he didn't give a toss for his rivals feelings on the matter. It was just that he felt completely and utterly lost as to what to do and he was holding out for the chance that Malfoy might have a good idea, if he could restrain himself from killing him. Also, there was no chance of any plan of Harry's working unless Malfoy cooperated.

His mood swings towards Draco Malfoy alternated between blinding, murderous rage and a pity for someone in the same position as he. He knew Malfoy looked up to his father, and he must love his parents in his own way. Whatever Malfoy was gaining by becoming Harry, he was losing some things too. It was just hard for Harry to remember that some times, especially when he stood to lose Ron and Hermione, which would be like losing his family twice.

One the one hand, if he told Dumbledore and his friends, there was a reasonable chance he could remain friends with Hermione and the Weasleys. There would be a few changes, and he'd have to deal with Malfoy having special treatment from Dumbledore while Harry might be cast aside somewhat, which would hurt. There was also the possibility - no, it was almost inevitable - that he'd have to play Malfoy's part to the rest of the world, including to Malfoy's parents.

The choice seemed easy. _Tell Dumbledore, _he thought more than once as his quill was poised over a piece of parchment, _just tell him. Tell Hermione, tell Ron._

_I'll just find out Malfoy's plans first, _he told himself again, before laying down his quill.

There was one person though, that he never dared think about, and deep down Harry knew it was the main reason why he couldn't commit to telling people.

Not once did he tell himself _tell Sirius_.

Sirius loved his godson, and Harry was a Malfoy. He was, on his mother's side, a Black. Sirius hated the Blacks, he hated the Malfoys, and he hated Dark Magic, and Harry had been masquerading as his beloved godson, and he, an impostor, was linked with all three of Sirius's prejudices.

Sirius had had a brother, once. They'd been enemies, pretty much, and all because Regulus didn't rebel against his family and the dark arts like Sirius did. Harry didn't know a lot about him, he'd never asked, never tried to dig deeper, because he barely knew Sirius, and the clipped tone in which he talked about Regulus was enough to put him off.

If Sirius hated his brother for not rebelling, how would he feel about Harry? Harry had meant to be put in Slytherin, and although he didn't want to get involved in the dark arts, he couldn't quite tell himself convincingly that he wanted nothing to do with his real parents.

He knew they were evil. But…he'd never had a mother and father before - at least not ones that he could remember. He'd never even met Narcissa Malfoy. His mother. Surely it wasn't wrong to …

He didn't know what he wanted. If he was faced with Lucius and Narcissa right this moment, he would walk away, but all in all he couldn't just ignore his only family in the world. But Sirius might want him to.

If he could get people to keep it from Sirius…but even then it wasn't that easy though. It was an immensely personal pain that he'd suffered, finding out the truth, and telling anyone else about it seemed…wrong. He knew it was the best path, but he just couldn't tell them. Not yet.

He wished Malfoy would hurry up and come and find him so this could all be resolved. Harry had no idea how to find Draco, so Draco had to come to him. He glanced at the letters and the package addressed to Malfoy sitting innocently in the corner and a flash of anger shocked through him. After all this, Malfoy had only bothered to grudgingly scrawl Harry's new name on a badly wrapped parcel and hand it to his owl. Malfoy clearly knew what was going on, but he hadn't bothered to get in contact, and he hadn't even bothered with his usual pristine handwriting. He hadn't moved himself to speak to Harry in any way, even though Harry had no way of knowing how to get to the Malfoy family house.

He supposed _he could owl him, but why should he? Malfoy was the one getting the better deal of out this - Harry had lost the only family he had ever known, and his very identity, and while Draco had lost the same, he'd gained the fame that he had always been so jealous of - he had a purpose in the world!_

_Now Harry was not only without purpose in life, but his parents were evil, and he wasn't going to bother to post Malfoy's mail back to him._

_It wasn't until later that night that he remembered the content's of Ron's letter and wrote back to his friends telling them that the Dursleys didn't want him to go away during the summer, and he'd see them on the train._

_The day Harry looked in the mirror and saw no trace of his former self in it was the last straw. His hair was soft, fine and brilliant blond, even though it was messily cut into Harry's usual 'take the hedge trimmer to it' style. His eyes were silvery-grey, his eyelashes and eyebrows so light they were invisible, and his forehead clear and pale. He hated it. He could see Lucius Malfoy in the way he unconsciously held his shoulders in a regal manner. It seemed harder to slouch with his new bone structure, now that he tried. His shoes, already ill-fitting, were bigger than ever and his feet were disgustingly dainty. He had no scars at all, and Malfoy had no acne or blemishes - there was not one mole on his perfect body. He searched in vain for a fault and finally smugly concluded that Malfoy had knobbly knees and disturbingly thin wrists. Besides, he probably had magically vanished his spots and pimples. There was no way a real person could be so perfect._

_The days he might have spent at the Burrow came and went, and Malfoy still hadn't contacted him with mere days to go before the beginning of the term. He supposed all he could do was try to make sure he got to King's Cross without anyone he knew seeing Draco Malfoy's body where Harry Potter should be._

_He couldn't wait for Dumbledore to come and collect him._

_The next day he donned a hat and one of Dudley's hoodies and crept out of the house, catching a bus to London._


	3. 3

Chapter 3

Draco waited until the last minute to act. He'd been poised in the entrance hall with his belongings packed into a nondescript trunk beside him for hours. He had passed the time reading _Which Broom _and _Recent Advances in Potion-making_, and he was just about to move onto his new Arithmancy textbook when he heard the floo flare up in the adjacent drawing room.

Making sure he was still fully hidden by the marble column he was standing behind, he listened carefully as his parents murmuring conversation and quiet footsteps moved out from the drawing room and up the carpeted stairs. He knew they would probably have a light breakfast before they called for him, but he planned to be gone long before that.

When silence reigned again, Draco pulled his hood over his face just in case and pulled his trunk into the drawing room and got ready to floo out of his family home for what could easily be the last time. He took a moment to glance around the drawing room, his eyes resting on the piano for a moment, before scattering floo powder on the flames and stepping in.

He took a breath.

'The Leaky Cauldron."

The walk to King's Cross was uneventful, but Draco was still jumpy. He looked around nervously as he crossed the road, then remembered he had a famous face, and pulled his hood down, keeping his eyes on his feet.

A moment later he remembered he was wearing robes and muggles would be staring at a cloaked and hooded figure even more than one only cloaked, so he pulled his hood down again.

His hands were shaking as he approached the barrier between platform nine and ten. The platform would be almost empty, there was still an hour to go before the train left. If he was noticed now he would have no chance of getting away inconspicuously by hiding in the crowd.

He felt sick with nerves. He didn't know why he was doing this to himself. He was Harry Potter, there was a madman after him. He didn't need to complete his education, didn't need to see Potter. He needed to leave the country post-haste and go on the run.

He stepped through the barrier.

As he had predicted, the platform was almost empty. He didn't stop to look at the people there, but walked briskly to an out-of-the-way bench, pulling his trunk behind him and settled there where he could inconspicuously monitor the people coming through the barrier and turn his face away to hide if it was anyone who knew Potter too well. It was going to be a long wait considering he'd just spent the last three hours in boredom in the drawing room for his mother and father to come home.

He passed time by adjusting the strength of his glasses. His vision had been the last thing to go, and while he fully intended to visit a healer and have his vision seen to, in the mean time he'd went digging around in his father's study for his great grandfather Hyperion's reading glasses which he'd eventually found, after searching through six sets of drawers and a biting cabinet, sitting on full view inside a glass display cabinet by the door. Well accustomed to breaking into parts of the manor that were supposed to be barred to him, it had only taken a few minutes to cast a sensing spell for interference hexes and pick the lock with one of his mothers hat pins . That trick had been one he'd taught to himself at an unpleasant price. He remembered picking up a book on handy muggle-derived skills out of a bargain bin whilst out shopping with his father. He'd paid for the book with his pocket money. He'd been saving up, because he'd found a hidden passage behind a grandfather clock in the west wing of the manor by tapping for hollow points in the walls, and he had no idea how to get in by magical means, but this book had promised an entire chapter on breaking and entering. He'd only just settled down in the library with the book on his knee when his father found him and asked what he'd been reading.

Even then Draco had know he would be in deep trouble, but he wasn't stupid enough to attempt to lie to his father, so he'd airily said 'Oh just something I bought earlier today', but Lucius wanted to see the cover. That was the first time Draco found out about the Cruciatus curse, because, as Lucius told him, he was too old for stinging hexes and he should know better than to bring such filth into the house.

Back to the more recent past, after picking the lock on the cabinet door, Draco had taken only six attempts to bypass the hexes on the cabinet and finally secured the spindly silver rimmed glasses that now graced his less-than-worthy half-blood face.

Apart from all the more mundane curiosities about Potter's body he had discovered in the previous weeks, the most annoying was that his eyesight without glasses was barely better than being blind. How Potter didn't walk around banging into walls and doors, even with his glasses was anyone's guess. Great-uncle Hyperion's glasses weren't strong enough, but he'd been fiddling with the adjustment charm on them for some time and he thought he had it about right, though such thick lenses on such elegant frames didn't look at all right.

As the first group of students began to arrive, Draco noted dully they were only muggleborn first years and started thinking about his trunk. He wished he could have brought it; it had six compartments, all magically expanding, and one was large enough for him to fit in, albeit lying down flat with his arms pinned by his side. It was really supposed to be for his broom but he thought it useful if he ever had a dead body to hide. There was no chance of that with the plain trunk he'd brought with him. He couldn't bring his own trunk when he looked like Potter, it would look awfully suspicious if anyone saw him, so he'd filched this one from the attic. It only had two compartments, so he'd had to leave most of his possessions behind but it was the only one that wasn't falling to pieces.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and closed his eyes in despair as his fingers met the unusually harsh-feeling brush of thick, black tufts.

He'd tried conditioning potion, Sleakeazies, straightening charms and even his mother's expensive French serum, but it had just looked worse and worse until he concluded that Potter's hair in it's natural state was the best he could do. Draco had given up the idea he could slick back his hair in it's usual manner the moment his hair had started tufting up in the mornings, but he was too afraid to visit his usual hair stylist because of his new face. The texture of Potter's hair and his own sleek, long hair style was a recipe for a disaster, so wincing, he'd called Dippy to give him a hair cut.

Well house elves are not hair stylists for a reason, and when Dippy had finished with him, Draco had no choice but to use a shearing charm to cut every last strand off. Once all his hair was the same length (approximately two millimetres long - not a look that suited Potter), he'd used a hair growing charm to get it a few centimeters longer. The result was acceptable, even better than Potter's usual standards, but Draco's self esteem was at a new low.

Lost in his thoughts, Draco didn't noticed who had arrived in the flow of students through the barrier. By chance, he happened to look up at the same moment the other person did.

For a moment he stared at his face across the crowd, taking in how Potter had managed to make Draco's hair look good in a messy hedgehog style mop, and less happily that he had dressed his body in ill-fitting muggle clothes.

Then Draco's stomach churned as he remembered with a jolt that Potter had taken from him his parents, his money, his name, his Nimbus 2001, and everything else including his identity. Across the platform he could see Potter's eyes harden, and Draco stood up, anger building at how Potter had the audacity to glare at him after everything he had done.

Draco saw someone wave to him, and for a moment his glaring contest with the other Draco abated as he locked eyes with the ginger She-Weasel, emerging with her family from the barrier and she faltered at his sneer. Then he locked eyes with Potter again and all in one instant, every feeling of anger, resentment, fear, and despair he had felt over the summer holidays came flooding into him as Potter dropped his trunk and rushed at him, fury blazing in his eyes.

Draco sprang to his feet, baring his teeth and forgot everything apart from the rage and threw himself at Potter, fists first.

They collapsed in a ball on the platform as screams erupted and Draco was dazed as his head collided with the ground. Potter removed his fist from Draco's gut to land it on his face, but he managed to dodge out the way before it flattened his face into a bloody pulp. He grabbed Potter's arms and tried to restrain him, but only received a knee to the crotch for his troubles. He'd just gotten a solid grip on Potter's throat and had only just started squeezing when he felt hands clutching at his body, pulling him away from Harry Potter who was using _his_ eyes to give him the Malfoy Ice-Glare of Fury.

"Harry are you okay?" the mudblood said in his ear, and Draco whipped around. The Weasel family was falling over themselves to help him off the ground; the Weaslette had tears running down her face.

He laughed wildly, causing expressions of alarm all around, and turned to see what Potter was doing.

If there was ever a photograph Draco would treasure until the end of his days, it would have depicted the scene in front of him.

It seemed his mother and father had finally deigned to notice his disappearance from the manor and had deduced that he had made his own way to the platform. Narcissa's cheeks were tainted with a delicate blush, yet she maintained her rigid posture as she watched her husband wrangle Harry Potter into a standing position. Potter pushed back his blond hair with a hand as he shoved Lucius away from him, giving him a fierce glare. He hissed something at Lucius, and Draco thought his own face was going to split from grinning so hard as he saw Lucius's lips move in a very familiar sequence.

"_Malfoys do _not-" he saw the lips say, and finished the sentence in his head as Lucius turned away slightly _"-brawl in public"._

There was then a dangerous moment when Narcissa seemed to notice that Potter had dressed her son's body in muggle clothing, and her eyes widened, but at that point, Potter threw Lucius another barbed comment as he shook him off again, along with a vicious sneer and, grabbing his trunk, boarded the train.

"Looks like trouble in paradise." he heard Ron Weasley say beside him, and starting, he realised he had to shake off his entourage too. For a moment he considered appropriate words to do so, but in the end he simply imitated Potter by grabbing his trunk and storming off. Explanations could come later.

When Malfoy entered his compartment, Harry didn't know what to say. He'd thought he'd feel better after attempting to beat the living daylights out of his body thief, but after seeing Draco interacting rather cruelly and dismissively with his friends only felt miserable, confused, and frankly terrified of what was to come.

Malfoy looked sweaty and dishevelled, and he glanced behind himself with an air of panic as he addressed Harry, who watched his own lips talking to him with a sense of surreal-ness.

"Pansy and Blaise are coming," Malfoy whispered frantically at him, pushing his shock of black hair out of his eyes "you need to do exactly as I say."

"What?" Harry said, sitting up straight, thinking _Shit…I have to deal with being Malfoy already!_

"Look at them as if you can't be bothered talking to them, and sort of wave them off." Malfoy said, closing his eyes as if trying to clear his head "Just - dismiss them. If you can't manage that," he finished, opening his eyes "just say 'Go find a compartment, we'll talk later'. Clear?"

"Uh-" Harry began, then started as the compartment door flew open.

"What's _he _doing here?" Zabini said with an air of disgust, pushing past Malfoy.

"I missed you Drakie!" Pansy squealed, also trying to push past Malfoy to get to him.

Harry searched wildly for the right words as Draco sent him a pointed look.

"Um. I'll see you guys later." he said, trying to sound commanding. He looked them each in the eye, and meeting only uncertain confusion, and utter incredularity from Malfoy, he dropped his eyes and told the ground. "Go find a compartment, would you."

There was a moment of silence, then a "Er. Sure." from Zabini.

"_You IDIOT Potter_!" Malfoy exploded into a hissed diatribe as the compartment door snicked shut "_I told you to _dismiss_ them-" _he began talking in a normal volume once Pansy and Blaise had moved away from the door "-you weren't supposed to make it sound like you had a juicy secret!"

"Shut up!" Harry said hotly "I didn't know, alright, I'm still getting used to -"

He fell silent as the compartment door opened again and winced as Ron came into view and shot him a cold glare. Hermione followed him, but her eyes only passed over Harry briefly, immediately focusing on Malfoy.

"Harry?" she touched his arm concernedly "What are you doing? Don't bother with him, he's not worth it."

"No he's not," Ron agreed, shooting Harry another dirty look "we've found a compartment, are you coming."

"I'll see you later." Malfoy said dismissively, and Hermione looked hurt

"But Harry-"

"We can talk later." Malfoy said, turning and giving her a strained smile "I'm talking to P - Malfoy. I'm talking to Malfoy." he said again, looking suddenly stricken.

"Are you alright mate?" Ron said, exchanging a worried look with Hermione. "Come on, lets -"

"I'm fine." Malfoy told him, shaking Ron's hand off his shoulder "Look, just give me some space, I need to sort things out with - him."

Harry watched smugly as Malfoy struggled to get rid of his friends using awkward grimaces that could barely be described as smiles, and which were not even close to reassuring.

"Bye now." Draco said, his voice constrained as he half pushed Hermione out into the corridor.

"You were saying?" Harry said airily as Draco turned around.

"Don't." Malfoy said, taking a seat opposite him, before turning to look at him. "We need to decide what the hell we're going to do."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe if you'd bothered to come and see me this summer we wouldn't have to do this."

Draco's expression grew incredulous. "Me come to see you? How the hell was I supposed to get through whatever's protecting the Boy Who Refused to Die - or should I say, the Boy who Pretended to -"

"Shut your mouth!" Harry spat, rising to the bait "I didn't know anymore than you -"

"Right, whatever!" Draco said, waving him away "It doesn't matter. What does matter is that you are going to be sleeping in Slytherin tonight, and surrounded by people who know me, and you can't seem to act to save yourself."

"You're one to talk-"

"At least I made an decent effort!"

For a moment they glared at each other again, then Harry slumped into his seat.

"So I take it you've already decided you want to pretend to be each other." he said dully.

"What choice do we have?" Draco demanded "Do you think my parents will be fine with me living with them when I look like Harry Potter? And what about when they realise that I apparently _am _the real Harry Potter? I don't think you know it, but from what I've been hearing over the last year, my father's been getting mixed up in some kind of business which involved assassinating you - I mean me, and I don't want to have to live with him if -"

"Hold up!" Harry interrupted "Your father is-"

"You heard me," Draco shot back, green eyes glinting determinedly "I'm on the run for my life, and I'm going to act _your_ part even if you won't act mine!"

"You don't have to threaten me!" Harry said heatedly

"Don't I?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow

"No." Harry said, his voice small. "I don't know what I want to tell people in the long run but for now I can't face telling - certain people."

There was a moment of hesitation, then Draco said haltingly. "At - at least you seem to think you have _someone_ who won't throw you out on your ear - at best."

Harry stared at his feet.

"Look." Draco said finally, wishing Potter would man up and stop making his body look so pathetic "You need to tell me how to act like you."

Harry closed his eyes. "We really could have done with some time to practice."

"Yes, well we don't." Draco snapped. "And we don't have time to talk about anything else yet either, so just focus on telling me how to handle your friends, your housemates, and the headmaster and I'll be fine."

Harry hesitated for a moment. "I don't know what to tell you. Just be polite. Friendly. And Dumbledore - well just be respectful I suppose-"

"Oh for Melin's sake!" Draco snapped "Let me go first then. Pay attention!"

Harry pushed down his anger watched Malfoy begin to pace the compartment.

"Don't talk about your feelings to my friends. Don't be overly friendly. Think of them as political allies - treat them well, but don't trust them too much or get close to them. If they ask you something, or put you in a situation you're not sure of, just brush them off, tell them they're boring you, or you want them to leave, or you want to be alone."

"You speak to your friends like that?" Harry said incredulously

"When I'm in a bad mood," Draco replied "which is what you'll have to pretend to be in until you get a feel for how things work. If you're pressed, and only if you absolutely have to, tell them that your father gave you a hard time this summer."

"Did he?" Harry said curiously

"No, he was out of the country for most of it." Draco replied, then frowned "Which reminds me, we need to swap information about each other's pasts at some point soon. It won't look good if someone brings up something we've done and we don't know what they're talking about."

"Right." Harry said dully "Great. So what about the other Slytherins."

"Beneath your notice." Draco said "But be careful, the older Slytherins will leave you alone, but if you act too different from normal, they'll think you're weakening and they'll try to take over your spot."

"My spot?"

"My place of power in Slytherin. They don't push me around because I've spent the last three years asserting my strength in the house. They know I give as good as I get, but if you show them weakness, they'll try to take back the power. Ignore them at all times, but if students younger than you give them cheek, it's expected that you'll put them into their place. Show the older ones a cold respect if you have to talk to them, or interact with them."

"Fine. Right." Harry said, beginning to worry that he wouldn't be able to pull this off at all.

"Are you sure that all you want to tell me about your house is to be friendly and polite?" Draco asked scathingly

"Well." Harry thought hard "It's pretty much the truth. I don't dismiss people like you do, or sneer at them, or be rude to them. If anyone makes comments about - you know, me being famous, don't _preen_. I don't like it. I hate being put in the spotlight."

Draco curled his lip. "Right. And Granger and Weasley?"

"Ron's good at chess. If you ever play him, make sure you lose. I always lose." Harry said sadly. He'd never lose to Ron again.

"Is that _all?" _

"No - I - I just thought that details like that were important!" Harry said angrily

"Sorry. They are." Malfoy ducked his head, then looked up and gave Harry a nasty smirk "Just so you know, Blaise is gay. There's a detail for you. Don't undress in front of him, he pervs."

"Um." Harry couldn't think of a reply to that. After a pause, he continued awkwardly "Also, Ron takes it badly if you spend a lot of money on him, or imply he's poor. He's touchy about money."

"Hardly surprising," Draco commented "anything else?"

"Well, Hermione will probably notice something's different about me. You need to be _really_ careful around her. I mean it. You'll have to have a lie ready, to throw her off." Harry added thoughtfully.

"Do you know, I think I know something that'll work already." Draco said slowly

"What?" Harry asked tentatively

"Does Granger fancy you?"

"What?"

"Does she? Will she get flustered if I flirt with her or something? Or if I spread rumours that I like her?"

"I - " Harry tried to think, feeling flustered himself "I don't know. I don't think so. I don't think she thinks of me that way."

"I'll think of something." Draco said determinedly "Anyway, back to me then. You should probably know that Professor Snape is my godfather."

"What?" Harry said weakly

"He'll invite you to his office a few times each term, usually he does it once at the beginning of term, but we'll work out what to do about that another time. The point is, if he asks you to visit him, act pleased. Oh, and also, when we're alone, you need to remember to call him Sev, or Severus."

"_What?"_

"He pretends to hate it," Draco continued "but it's a routine we have. I call him Sev, he threatens to disembowel me, and I make a witty comeback. Get it."

"Not really." Harry felt ill

"Look, you probably won't have to deal with him for a few days at least. Just keep it in mind."

Harry made a noise of assent, but was beginning to feel ill.

"You don't really have to worry about other teachers. I show respect to Flitwick and Sinistra mostly, but McGonagall and Sprout - you must have seen what I do?"

"Talk in class, laugh at them behind their backs." Harry supplied

"Exactly. And Hagrid - don't hold back on him," Malfoy said seriously "I know you like him, but we need to keep up appearances."

"Then _you'll _have to be friendly to Hagrid." Harry said firmly, ignoring Malfoy's horrified expression "And I'm polite to all the teachers, so remember that too. And if Dumbledore talks to you, be friendly, but still formal."

"You don't call him uncle Albus or anything do you?" Draco said distastefully

"No. Only 'sir', or 'professor', and 'Dumbledore' when I'm with Ron and Hermione."

"Got it." Draco said. "Now," he said apprehensively "we should swap trunks and get back to our - each others' - friends. And you can't walk around in my body with those clothes." he added, eyeing Dudley's old jeans reproachfully.

_Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters, they belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any profit from this fic, it's purely for fun._


	4. 4

Chapter 4

Harry spent the rest of the train journey with his head buried in _Arithmancy for Intermediate Studies_, a heavy tome which he could barely make head nor tale of. When Malfoy's friends eventually reappeared in the compartment, he almost lost it for a moment when his hands began to shake. Would it really matter if he spent the rest of the journey locked in the toilet?

But no, he had to make this work. So he stayed, and it hadn't gone as badly as it could have.

Pansy Parkinson was unnerving him by sleeping with her head in his lap, but he wasn't confident of being able to get rid of her and he knew if he told her to leave in the wrong way he might cause suspicion, so he let her be. She was Malfoy's girlfriend, surely he had to let her do things like that? He needed to question Malfoy on their relationship. Was he a virgin? He looked at Pansy's pug face and wasn't sure if he should feel accomplished or disgusted.

Zabini and Nott had tried to engage him in conversation twice about his earlier conversation with 'Potter', but he'd coldly told him he wanted to read in peace, and they'd let him be. He turned another page in his book and made himself read, and wondered how Draco was faring.

Once the toilet door was shut and locked, Draco didn't bother holding it in. Pushing the toilet seat down with trembling hands, he collapsed onto it, his entire body beginning to shake violently. When the tears came, it was with painful, choked sobs, and he leant his head against the cool hand basin, directly in from of him in the cramped space.

This was it. He'd seen his home and his parents for the last time as Draco today. His heart had been hammering on his ribs like a sledgehammer all morning, but he'd had to keep his mask on to make sure everything was happening as it should. Because if he or Potter messed up, he had nowhere - _nowhere _- to go. Potter certainly wasn't going to keep a cool, calm head, which meant he had to.

He'd spent the rest of his summer locked in his room, slowly coming to terms with the idea that this wasn't some kind of hideous joke. He'd drunk all Narcissa's fancy wines - at least until Dippy started hiding them. Then he'd just cried.

His father had never been kind to him, but Draco had always imagined that deep down, he was loved. Lucius may have obliviated himself, but if he had ever felt love and affection towards his real son, it had long since faded, or perhaps a part of Lucius subconsciously recognised Draco as an imposter.

He was having a harder time letting go of his mother than he'd anticipated. She really had loved him as a person, in a distant, flighty sort of way and it made his heart ache to think she'd be sending someone else expensive sweets in the morning owl post from now on.

He knew that this was the last time he could cry like this. He had to be someone else now. He had to, because if he didn't, he had nowhere to go. So he might as well make the most of it.

When Draco finally emerged from the toilet with clear eyes and head held high, he was thankful that Harry Potter suited the colour red, because he was sure that his crimson tie wouldn't suit his old complexion. He felt sick with anxiety, letting himself into Granger and Weasley's compartment. Harry had the easy part to play. Draco could carry of aloofness and hostility like no one's business, but now he had to be friendly and caring. He wasn't sure he could cope if someone tried to hug him.

Potter's friends heads swung round as he opened the door, their eyes demanding and full of questions. He dug his nails into his palms.

"Hi." he said awkwardly, opting to sit next to Weasley in case Granger suspected something right away.

"Decided to talk to us, have you?" Weasley - but he must remember to call him 'Ron' now - said snottily. Draco hesitated, catching himself before he said something snarky in return. What would Potter say?

"Sorry." he said meekly

"What were you talking to Malfoy about?" Granger probed, and Draco said his rehearsed line.

"We decided to make a truce. "

"_What_?" Ron said, gaping

"I don't want to be friends with him or anything," Draco said evenly "just I didn't want to fight anymore, and he agreed as long as I tutor him in Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Ron just gaped at him again.

"Typical Slytherin," Hermione said darkly

"But - " Ron interrupted "what's happened? I can't believe you just wanted to make a truce - didn't you just batter him to within an inch of his life?"

"Exactly Harry, what on earth got into you?" Hermione said sternly, and Draco wanted to slap her condescending face.

"I don't know what got into me," Draco tried "he was just _smirking _at me."

Hermione looked disgusted "Don't you feel sorry at all?"

"Obviously," Draco said scornfully "or I wouldn't have made up with him."

"Hey there's no need to be like that!" Ron said hotly, and Draco winced. He was already lapsing back to his own personality.

"Sorry. Just it's been stressful. I was trying to be the bigger person and just point out that we're enemies for no good reason, and - well you know what he's like." Draco shrugged "But at least I know I've made the effort, and we'll just have to see how the tutoring sessions go."

"I suppose at least he admitted you're better at Defence than him." Ron said, though he still looked ruffled.

"That's very mature of you, Harry." Hermione said, ignoring Ron "I suppose at least you're trying to make up for your wrongs."

_Patronizing bitch._

Draco decided to introduce a new subject "I was thinking of getting him to tutor me in Potions." He was _good _at Potions, and he needed some excuse for Potter's skills suddenly improving, as well as getting Potter to do a good imitation of his own brewing skills. Also, he was going to have tutor Potter in Arithmancy, seeing as he had missed an entire year of classes. It was Draco's favourite class, and now he was going to have to take on Divination instead…maybe he organise something McGonagall to change classes.

"It's a good idea, Harry" Hermione said hesitantly "That way he might not feel resentful that you're tutoring him and not the other way around. But I could tutor you, you know." she looked a little hurt, and Draco wanted to roll his eyes, but restrained himself.

"It's like you said, I thought it would help us get along a bit better if the tutoring was a two-way thing." He wished Potter read books for pleasure more often, maybe Granger would can it if he started reading, but it was too out of character for Harry.

"So you're ditching us for Malfoy." Ron said, a churlish look back on his face as if it had never left.

"Oh Ron!" Hermione sighed

How badly Draco wanted to reply in the affirmative.

"No Ron," he said tightly "I'm just trying to build bridges. Look, I'm tired. I think I'll take a nap."

They were looking suspicious already, but Draco was stressed out and liable to snap so, not feeling tired in the slightest, he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the Hogwarts Express.

Lightening flashed across the sky as Harry, along with his Slytherin followers, trundled in their carriage past the winged boars at the gates to the Hogwarts grounds. He didn't stop Pansy from huddling into him, but he wished he could speak to Draco immediately about how to handle her.

Walking into the entrance hall, he cast his eye around for Draco and his friends, but almost immediately he was distracted by a loud pop and a splash, and he jumped at the same time as a small flood of water exploded around his feet.

"I'm warning you, Peeves!" McGonagall called from up ahead, and he cold see her shaking a fist at the disappearing poltergeist.

"Ugh, water balloons!" Pansy said disgustedly

"At least he got Weasley good." Blaise said sagely, nodding up ahead, and Harry's heart jumped as he saw a red haired figure disappear into the great hall.

Draco endured Longbottom with the patience of a saint. It was better than enduring Weasel, but listening to the boy prattle on about his boring summer holidays was one of the most tedious speeches he'd ever endured. He didn't think he'd ever felt so relieved for the sorting to begin, and he watched with rather more interest than usual as the various first years walked from the sorting stool to their respective new houses. By the time the last chubby faced kid had toddled off to Hufflepuff though, his stomach was starting to rumble, and he didn't need Dumbledore's urging to go ahead and tuck in.

As usual, Draco picked at the main course, but when the pudding appeared, he heaped his plate high with Chocolate Gateau.

"Sweet tooth?" Hermione asked, eyeing his bowl with a wince, and Draco remembered someone saying her parents were teeth-healers in the muggle world. He merely shrugged, wondering why muggles had so many teeth-related accidents that they needed specialized healers.

…000...

"So!" Dumbledore said, as the tables cleared, and Draco breathed a sigh of relief. Hermione had been halfway through a furious rant on house elves. Apparently she had no idea that they existed, and somehow considered their position morally questionable. He had hesitated before deciding to play dumb. She'd find out soon enough what happens when you try to give a house elf wages and sick leave.

"Now that we are fed and watered," the headmaster said as Hermione harrumphed "I must once more ask for your attention as I give out a few notices. Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-Yo's, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thiry-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr Filch's office, if anyone would like to check it."

Draco merely raised an eyebrow at the sarcastic tone to the headmaster's voice. Apparently even the headmaster wasn't above mocking the squib. He could just imagine the teachers sniggering at each other as Filch and his cat were terrorized by children's toys, unable to stop them from attacking without magic.

"As ever, I would like to remind you all that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year. It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" Draco said angrily as the table around him erupted. Apparently he was sitting in the midst of the quidditch team. He looked over at the Slytherin table and found himself sharing an outraged expression with Potter.

_Just typical. Potter would probably have won the cup for Slytherin this year in my name. Father would have been so proud. Or at least smug._

"This is due," Dumbledore continued as the uproar died down "to an event that will be starting in October,"

_Oh. _

Draco remembered now. Father _had _said something at the beginning of the summer. The Triwizard Tournament was supposed to be reinstated, but Draco had forgotten it in all his other problems. He frowned, thinking hard. He couldn't think how, but he was certain that he'd overheard father discussing it with the same men who had been at the manor some time ago who'd seemed overly interested in ending Harry Potter's life.

_My life. I'll have to be very careful this year._

"- I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

Draco waited impatiently along with the rest of the school for a sudden roll of thunder to abate so that the headmaster could continue his announcement, but at that moment the great doors at the end of the hall swung open to admit what had to be the most unattractively hideous man Draco had ever seen, including some of his father's more unsavoury acquaintances.

The man limped up to the teacher's table with the aid of a walking stick and a wooden leg, and Draco watched in fascination with the rest of the school as he clunked his way along to a seat. His face seemed to have pieces _missing_, and what was there was so heavily scarred and pitted he wasn't sure whether the word 'face' could really be applied to it. Most disturbing of all was the man's glass eye, which was electric blue in colour and seemed to whiz around and around like a spinning top as it took in the entire hall, moving independently of the other eye.

Before sitting down, the man shook hands with Dumbledore, and with a sinking feeling, Draco deduced that this monstrosity was what was going to pass for a Defence teacher this year.

_Dumbledore must be desperate._

"That's Mad-Eye Moody!" Ron whispered in awe, and Draco turned to him.

"You know him?" It really said it all when the man was known as 'mad'.

"He's an auror." Ron whispered "My dad-"

The headmaster cut Ron off as he introduced their teacher, but Draco turned back around, mind whizzing like clockwork. Someone was out to kill Harry Potter - him - and there was an auror at the school.

Dumbledore _knew. _He had to know Potter was in peril_._

He watched the headmaster speculatively. Would he be told he was in danger? He didn't know how much the headmaster interacted with Harry, it was possible he would be called to speak to him within the next few days. He'd have to go over their previous meetings with Harry so he didn't mis-step.

"As I was saying," Dumbledore said pleasantly, ignoring the fact that the students were still avidly focussed on Auror Moody, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event which has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" one of the stupid Weasel twins said loudly in an oafish outburst that Draco would have usually attributed to the likes of Crabbe or Goyle, but the school laughed because Weasley was a Gryffindor and therefore such outburst were generally good-naturedly endured.

Draco shook his head before he got too irritated, only to see the headmaster was now being dissuaded from telling an inappropriate joke by McGonagall.

Dumbledore then launched into a rather long discourse on the history of the tournament while Draco entertained himself by glaring at Harry playfully, who looked at him in surprise, then hesitantly glared back, clearly unsure whether Draco was serious or not.

He rolled his eyes and looked away. Potter was such a plank sometimes.

"Death toll!?" Hermione whispered in alarm, and Draco tuned back into the speech hurriedly.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament, none of which have been very successful."

_Oh good, we're test subjects, _Draco thought wryly

"…The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Hallowe'en. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

Draco could have predicted the sudden pricking of ears amongst the Weasley clan, but once again one of the Weasley gits made an excited comment which only exacerbated the obviousness of his family's lack of money, and Draco eyed the boy's patched second hand robes with distaste.

Dumbledore ended the speech with the welcome (at least to Draco) announcement that only students who were of age could compete.

"Thank goodness I'm not likely to end up being chewed to pieces by a chimera." he said, forgetting who he was speaking to, and Ron gaped on astonishment.

"Are you joking?! Eternal glory…a thousand galleons! Imagine what you could do with that money!"

_Oh for goodness' sakes…eternal glory for a school competition, is he insane? And what would the poor tosser do with a thousand galleons…he couldn't even buy his mother a decent house with that. I suppose to a Weasley that's a large sum of money though…_

A sudden thought struck Draco. His inheritance!

"Come on - are you alright Harry?" ever-alert Hermione was at his elbow in an instant, and Draco realised everyone was leaving the hall.

Was he still rich? He couldn't be, Potter practically wore rags. But his broom was worth a fortune, and the Nimbus 2000 he'd had before his Firebolt had been expensive too…

Draco didn't want to think about what it might mean if he was poor. Maybe he could persuade Potter to halve his inheritance with him…he'd have to strike a bargain later.

He followed the boisterous, noisy crowd up to a tower, where they were confronted with an overweight woman in an unflattering shade of pink who demanded the password. Draco was taken aback, and immediately missed the silent stretch of wall in the dungeons. The password was inane and ridiculous sounding, but he committed it to memory anyway.

He winced as he followed Ron though a garish common room and up some stairs to what he soon realised was a dormitory.

He thought he was going to be sick.

They shared _bedrooms?! _

He sourly imagined Potter relaxing in the luxury of his private room with en-suite bathroom as he headed for the bed with Potter's trunk at the end of it.

Drawing the curtains around himself, he fell back with a thump and reminded himself that he couldn't cry.

It didn't make a difference. Within moments his cheeks were wet, and he was biting his lip furiously to make himself keep silent. He could shake, and the tears could fall, but he would not allow a single sound to escape him.

He was exhausted, and eventually he could no longer think straight, so with a long, shuddering sight, he fell asleep to the sound of Ron muttering about eternal glory.

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters, they belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any profit from this fic, it's purely for fun.


	5. 5

Chapter 5

Harry stared wistfully across the hall the next morning at Draco who was prodding a bowl of porridge with a bitter look on his face and heavy bags under his eyes. Despite being surrounded by cheerful, laughing house-mates, the boy was starting to tug at his mop of black hair as if in an effort to hide underneath it and go back to sleep.

Around Harry, his Slytherin house-mates were in a similar mood. Blaise was blindly fumbling for the toast while his head rested on his arms, his eyes remaining firmly closed, and as Harry reached for the coffee - a luxury which he'd never seen on the Gryffindor table - Pansy actually _hissed_ at him and slapped his hand away before snatching it away possessively.

Harry didn't know how to respond to that in Draco terms, so her glared at her until she looked up and noticed and resolved to slap her hand away every time she tried to touch him or hold his hand today.

He _really _had to speak to Draco about her.

He was just watching Ron and Hermione talking, and feeling miserable, when he was pleasantly surprised by an eagle owl bearing a parcel which turned out to be full of sweets, but as he cast an eye across the hall and saw Draco watching miserably, he tucked them under the table. As he did so, he heard a small noise of protest, and looking around he found himself faced with several reproachful expressions.

_Okay, I just did something wrong._

"I _suppose_ you can have one each," Harry said, making sure he wrinkled his nose in disgust at them "if I get the coffee first tomorrow." he gave Pansy a hard stare, and her shoulders slumped.

"But I _always _get it first!" she complained, but she relented and dropped her gaze as Harry stared her down and he imperiously began handing out sweets to everyone who looked expectant in what he hoped was an appropriately snobbish manner. He almost handed one to a hopeful looking third year, but he looked up to see Draco give a slight shake of the head and he snatched it back quickly.

"Can't have it!" he sneered, feeling like a monster, and expecting the boy's face to crumple, but instead he received a mischievous grin and a shrug.

_Slytherins are made of tougher stuff, _he realised, and wondered if the house might have done him some good after all if he hadn't argued with the hat at his sorting. He hoped he was doing this all right. He had no idea what Draco would do in the majority of situations, but he tried to pretend he was Dudley instead when he came across a difficult situation.

Harry felt unusually chipper, all things considered as he made his way to Herbology. He thought he'd done well this morning in his dealings with his house mates, and he'd forgotten his nervousness of the night before. As a Gryffindor, he couldn't imagine being so rude to people on a daily basis but it seemed to create a sort of comradeship in Slytherin, and it was sort of fun to lord it over other people, and insult them, knowing that they wouldn't take it seriously.

_The difference between me and Malfoy, _Harry told himself when he felt a pang of guilt at his thoughts, _is that I don't mean it and he thinks its owed to him._

Herbology was a messy lesson, and Harry couldn't help his gaze drifiting every few minutes over to Ron, who was playfully flicking Draco with miniscule flecks of slime. The Slytherin seemed to be enduring it with good grace, but Harry could see the twitching muscle in his jaw and Draco looked a little too smug when their bowl of Bubotuber pus ended up upside down in Ron's lap.

"Come on now, scoop it up before it's wasted!" Sprout called irritably.

Harry made sure he caught up with Draco as the classes walked together down to Care of Magical Creatures. Ron looked annoyed and the Slytherins looked taken aback, and everyone in general looked shocked, but Harry wanted to speak to him.

"How do I deal with Pansy?" he muttered, conscious of the other students' stares.

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched "Tolerate her, but don't let her go too far."

"How far is too far?"

Draco looked at him speculatively "For now, don't let her do anything that you wouldn't let a close friend do, but don't talk feelings or get close to her."

"For now?" Harry asked quizzically

"Well if you're actually interested - can't see why you would be - you could always do something. But not yet, you need to convince them you're me, remember?"

Harry flushed. "I'm not interested in her!" he whispered

_Father won't be impressed then, _Draco thought dully

"I just wanted to know what to do about her!"

"Whatever," Draco shrugged "just don't embarrass me."

Care of magical creatures was an experience Draco could have done without. Hagrid had bred some monstrous hybrid lobster creature, and most of the class had ended up taking refuge in Hagrid's hut. Of course Granger and Weasley had to go and decide they were going to play Dragon Wrangler with the creatures and help Hagrid get them back in their cages, which meant he too had to risk life and limb to play his part as a Gryffindor.

"Get the _hell _into the hut with the rest of the sensible people!" Draco snarled as Harry made to join in "You're a Slytherin, remember?"

At lunch time, he watched with amusement as Granger decided to protest house elf rights by not eating.

_Stupid Gryffindor._

She didn't know a bloody thing about magical traditions, that was clear, but she was obviously one of those fools who stick to high and mighty principles come hell or high water.

"You should read up on house elves in the library." he suggested mildly

"I'm going to, tonight!" she said approvingly "Want to come with me."

He did. He wanted peace and quiet, and to meet Harry for a study session actually, but he'd had no time to organise it and anyway, they couldn't do it with Granger there. Even so, it would be nice to read a book in blessed silence.

Ron seemed to take his hesitation as unwillingness to hurt Hermione's feelings, and jumped into the conversation hastily.

"Harry said he'd play chess with me tonight." he said, his voice muffled by half a sausage which hung from his mouth. Draco forced a smile at him, but felt it twitch on his face as he considered what it might be like to hurl one of the gold goblets at his head.

_Great, I'll be losing chess games to Weasley all night._

Divination, unsurprisingly, turned out to be a load of Knarl dung. Trelawny approached him in a shuffling gait, arms raised and beaded shawls tinkling, and Draco had backed into a wall alarmed as she gesticulated wildly with her hands inches from his nose that most dreadful things would come to pass, and he was surely doomed. He could only managed a wide-eyed stare back at her, as she stood trembling, hands hanging spread in the air above his head as if waiting for a response.

"I'll - er - watch out then." he said hesitantly, and everyone around them looked very impressed at Trelawney, apart from Ron who said confidentially "How many times do you think she'll predict your death this year mate?" and laughed.

"Not very many, I hope." Draco said tightly. The woman was a fraud but she made him think of the danger he was in, inhabiting Potter's body.

After lessons that day, Draco and Harry happened to pass each other in the courtyard, and Harry pulled Draco aside in a panic.

"Snape!" he muttered fervently

"What?" Draco asked, drawing closer

"Snape! You said I had a few days!" Harry said, looking panicked

"A few days at best-" Draco defended

"You said a few days at _least_!" Harry snapped "He sent me a note at lunch to have dinner with him in his quarters tomorrow night! What the _hell _am I supposed to do with that?"

"He must have got a letter from father," Draco said, thinking swiftly "you were acting out of character on the platform, and father must have told him to check on me."

"Oh god." Harry moaned

"Sev will be concerned, he doesn't care about father." Draco explained "He'll be worried about me. You'll just have to tell him - tell him -"

"You want me to _lie _to Snape?" Harry said incredulously "There's no way I'll manage it! He _always _-"

"Don't look him in the eyes."

"What?"

"Don't look him in the eye, he's an occlumens. A mind reader.' he added exasperatedly when Harry looked blank. "And drop that expression," he said irritably as Harry's expression turned to horror at the revelation "it doesn't suit my face."

Harry scowled at him "So what shall I say, when he asks what's wrong with me?"

"Tell him father had you practicing dark magic over the summer, and it made you feel uneasy. You're worried he's making plans for your future and you're worried about what exactly they are."

Harry's grey eyes locked on him, narrowed in concern "Did he?"

"Yes." Draco said brusquely "Before he went away, he was having a lot of meetings with some dodgy characters in the drawing room. He forgets there's a passage behind the wooden panels where you can eavesdrop. He kept talking about 'finding me a place in the ranks', whatever that means, and it seems too much of a coincidence that he's been teaching me dark spells since Christmas. He left me with a list to learn by September. Once he mentioned 'once we kill Harry Potter', but that's all I heard-"

"You heard _what_?" Harry burst out "If I'm in danger-"

"_I'm _in danger, you nitwit!" Draco snapped "Remember who's who! Put that wand away."

Potter, the idiot, had drawn his wand at the very mention of danger.

"Sorry!" Harry said, but not putting his wand away "It just occurred to me though, that it's a bit sudden, this Triwizard Tournament. And what about hiring an Auror as a teacher, it's almost as if -"

"They're expecting something to go wrong." Draco finished grimly

"What if they're holding the tournament as a trap to lure the person into acting so that Moody can catch the person who's after you." Harry said speculatively

"Seems a bit elaborate," Draco replied, then smiled brightly, preening "but then I _am _the Boy Who Lived. My safety is top priority."

"Ssh!" Harry said, eyes darting around, but he looked amused "So, if I'm right, do you think that means you'll be put in a position of danger? Like bait?"

"That's really risky," Draco frowned "because the only way that would work is to have me as the Hogwarts champion."

"You're under age." Harry pointed out

"So as long as I don't put my name in, I'll be fine." Draco said primly, but he looked worried. "Listen Potter-"

"You'd better get used to calling me Malfoy." Harry interrupted

"-Malfoy," Draco said, wincing at the sound of it "but anyway, Snape's chambers are on the third level of the dungeons. Look for the stretch of wall between a torch and a tapestry of wrestling giants. The password is 'Aconite'.

"You really need to tell me what to say to him," Harry said desperately "I don't know-"

"I don't know what to tell you," Draco said "be polite, but friendly. Respectful. He'll ask you how school's been. Just say what you want. Don't spill your guts and cry all over him, but you should tell him what you're worried about in a sort of - I don't know, keep your emotions distant, but still tell him how you - I felt - about - about your life being planned out for you."

Draco flushed as Harry winced in sympathy. "I suppose this is my life now."

He smiled wryly back "Enjoy it."

Harry stared at him as Draco turned to leave. The next few moments were a blur as he made to call Draco back; he really wasn't sure about this Snape business - but he involuntarily raised his wand slightly, and as he did so, a shout echoed around the courtyard and his wand arm reflexively raised.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Harry wheeled around in alarm, backing up with his wand raised as he saw professor Moody charging towards him with his wand in an attack position.

"Wha-" he started to say, but his voice wouldn't work properly, and then he suddenly felt violently ill; the world spinning around him wildly. He shit his eyes tightly, throwing his hands out to help balance himself.

"What do you -" Harry heard, and he opened his eyes and found that he was very close to the ground. Squinting up, he could see his body - Draco - standing above him.

"Did he get you? Moody growled.

"What? No!" Draco said harshly "Would you -"

Harry wasn't staying to hear more. He had been cursed, or something, so become very small. He made a dash for the castle, then found himself tripping over small, white furry feet.

_He's turned me into a rat! _He thought in a panic. He looked around wildly and saw Ron, standing by the castle door and made straight for him. His body felt longer than usual as he ran, it was a very odd feeling.

Harry only remembered that he was Malfoy as he came near enough to Ron to notice that he was laughing silently, clutching his belly in silent laughter. A pang of sorrow went through him, and he veered towards the entrance hall instead.

"I don't think so!" he heard Moody bellow, and suddenly there was empty air beneath his feet, and he was flailing, the world a blur.

SLAM

The earth came up to meet him, and Harry thought he had blacked out, but no, he was in the air again

SLAM

Moody was shouting, and then someone was shrieking, and then there was another awful feeling of giddy sickness and he fell to earth again, but this time the limbs that fell around him were human. He tried to gather himself together, but only fell in a tangle again. He looked up to see where Moody was.

"You tell your father boy -" Moody threatened, his beady eye narrowed in dislike as he spun in the air above Harry, his electric blue one focused on him in a very threatening manner "I know him of old - you tell him, _Moody's keeping a close eye on his son_…you tell him that from me." Harry merely stared up at him, eyes watering with pain, and a dull sense of humiliation slowly growing on him as he began to look at the people in the courtyard, all frozen with shock, apart from Ron who was laughing, and Draco, who was staring at him in horror from behind Moody. Harry was sure he'd picked up on Moody's warning…_did Moody know?_

_Are you okay?_ Draco mouthed, and Harry tried to smile reassuringly but it came out as a grimace.

"Now, you're head of house'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes." Harry replied blankly

"Another old friend," growled Moody "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape…come on, you…" and Harry felt himself being manhandled away. He looked pleadingly at McGonagall but she didn't help him, merely watched him being carried off with a worried expression on her face.

"Get out of my office." Snape spat, his voice low and dangerous, and Harry made to leave.

"Not you!" Snape grabbed his arm, and Harry flinched in surprise "You!" his dark eyes bored into Moody, who drew himself up.

"Don't you tell me-!"

"You transfigured my student into an _animal_, and abused him! You think you can escape child abuse laws by a loophole?"

"Are you threatening me?" Moody said menacingly, starting forward

"Why yes, I believe I am." Snape purred dangerously, drawing himself up so that his cloak billowed around him "Get out of my office."

"Dumbledore would fire you in an instant Snape, don't you think he wouldn't. He'd never keep a Death Eater over a _loyal _friend." Moody spat, looking Snape up and down. His ugly expression spoke volumes about how he felt about Snape.

"Is that so?" Snape said coolly

"I'm keeping an eye on you, Snape. Don't you think you can escape me boy."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as soon as the man was out of the room, until he remembered he still had a role to play.

"Are you alright, Draco?" Snape asked, in a voice softer than Harry had ever hear him use.

_Call him Sev. Don't look him in the eye._

Harry hesitated. He wanted to brush off the concern, but he didn't think that was something Draco would do. Draco had told him to open up to Snape, just not to put his emotions on show.

"It was rough." he said, keeping his eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry, Draco."

Harry forgot his instructions, and looked up in surprise.

Snape was leaning towards him, a hand held out as if to brace his shoulder, but not quite touching. His face was lined with concern, and Harry was so confused about what to do with this change in character than it was all he could to to force his eyes back to the ground.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, Draco. I promised you I wouldn't let anything happen to you while I was here."

"It's not your fault." Harry mumbled

"Draco." Snape said in such a way that Harry knew it was intended to make him meet his eye, and he did so, but only briefly "I _know _what it was like to be bullied here. Slytherins get no compassion…and from a teacher! Teachers are always biased to some degree, but to physically abuse a student…"

"I'm alright though." Harry said, wanting to escape "That's what matters." he swallowed "Sev."

Snape huffed and shot Harry a very light glare compared to what he was used to. "I'll let you away with that one, seeing as you've been through an ordeal. Now tell me, do you care to explain your recent behaviour?"

Harry swallowed. "What do you mean?" He looked longingly towards the door.

"You know very well what I mean!" Snape said sternly, motioning to the chair in front of his desk, and Harry sat down resignedly. Opposite him, the professor seated himself too, but Harry was very careful to keep his eyes on the desk now. He couldn't shake the feeling that Snape could tell a lie from truth, no matter how Harry tried to hide it.

"Your father tells me you got into a public brawl with Potter at the train station."

"How is that unusual?" Harry said sullenly

"You were rude and disrespectful to your father, and he's …concerned."

_Here we go. _He began to gear himself up for what would have to be a credible act.

"Concerned I'll mess up his plans for me, you mean!" Harry spat, fuelling the small resentment he felt on Draco's behalf into his words.

"What?" Snape sat up straighter "What have you heard?"

The way Snape said it, Harry wondered if he already suspected, or knew some of what he was going to say.

"Father…he's had me practicing dark magic recently. And I - I overheard my name - he's been meeting with people, bad people, and I know he's planning something for me. I just wish he'd let me live my own life-"

"What spells has he had you doing?" Snape sounded very worried.

Harry froze. Draco hadn't told him.

"Draco?"

Harry thought through his options quickly, and decided running was his best option. _Run before I give anything away…_

"I have to go." Harry said, standing abruptly

"Draco, you can talk to me-" Snape stood too. His voice was worried, but Harry didn't meet his eyes. This was dangerous territory.

"I know. Thanks." Harry kept his eyes on the floor "Just - I need time. See you later - Sev."

Harry heard Snape fall back into his chair before the door shut behind him and sighed as he walked swiftly away.

Snape obviously really cared about Draco, he felt almost bad for denying him the information.

Still, there was nothing he could do. They were in this alone.

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters, they belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any profit from this fic, it's purely for fun.


	6. 6

Chapter 6

Draco left Moody's first class on the unforgivable curses feeling sick. Around him the hoard of Gryffindors were babbling in excited voices as if they'd witnessed some kind of spectacular show, but all he could see in his minds eye was the engorgio'd spider twitching in silent agony. He could almost imagine it screaming, in whatever way spiders screamed.

He was so distracted that when he caught sight of Neville, he stopped in his tracks, and Dean Thomas walked right into him. Longbottom was standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with unseeing eyes.

"Harry?" Hermione said from beside him "What -? Oh." stepping around him, she'd seen what he was looking at.

"Neville?" she called quietly, walking over.

"Oh, hello," he said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm - I'm starving, aren't you?"

Draco suddenly realised what was wrong. Hadn't Longbottom's parents been tortured to death by Aunt Bella? And Moody had just shown him exactly how it would have looked. He stared at the round faced boy, unconsciously stepping away. If Neville knew who was really standing here witnessing this in place of Potter…

"Neville, are you alright?" said Hermione.

Draco wanted to leave, but he didn't know how to do it without making Harry look uncharacteristically tactless, or as if he knew something he shouldn't.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," Neville gabbled, in the same unnaturally high voice. "Very interesting dinner - I mean lesson - what's for eating?"

He caught Weasel throw him a dopishly alarmed glance, but he ignored it.

"The class was quite a nasty display, I thought." Draco said quietly to Hermione, deciding to step in. "If it was me, I might want some time alone after -"

But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them and , and they turned to see professor Moody limping towards them. All four of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a lower and much gentler growl than they had yet heard.

"It's all right sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on … we can have a cup of tea…"

Neville looked ready to wet himself at that suggestion, and Draco was almost moved to pity to the extent that he might have suggested that the boy had an emergency appointment elsewhere, but he still hadn't forgotten the cryptic clue Moody had dropped that he knew something was different about Draco Malfoy. He couldn't afford to pull suspicion onto Harry Potter too.

_Best keep quiet and avoid attracting attention._

"You all right, are you, Potter?" Moody said, turning his magical eye on Draco.

_So much for that._

"Yes sir." Draco said, trying to sound normal. Part of him was still feeling wobbly about the wanton show of illegal spells the man had showed him, but a bigger part felt sick with worry that he had found out his and Potter's secret.

Then Moody said "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, _but you've got to know_. No point pretending…well…come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you."

Draco watched in sympathy as Neville was steered away by a hand that looked like a knotted piece of wood, the boy's pleading glances to his classmates coming to no avail against the fear of Moody.

"What was that about?" Ron said

"I don't know." Hermione replied, and Draco could see from her pensive expression that her brain was working at a thousand miles an hour trying to piece together every titbit she'd ever known about Longbottom to come up with an answer to that question.

"Some lesson, though, eh?" Ron said to Draco as they continued back on their original path to the great hall. "He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn't he? When he did Avada Kedavra, the way that spider just _died_, just snuffed it right -"

Weasel's voice died away as Draco met him with a frosty glare. _This _buffoon was who Potter had chosen over him? What was wrong with him? Surely he couldn't be _that _tactless?

Dinner was a silent affair after that. Granger bolted down food, something that she'd been doing a lot recently. At first he'd thought she had just been overly hungry from her house elf rights hunger protest, but it turned out that her new approach was to spend hours in the library researching the situation, including the time usually allotted to eating.

Ron didn't make an attempt at speaking again, so Draco supposed he ought to make the first move.

"Look, I said I'd meet Malfoy for a study session in the library later," he made up "but do you want to get our Divination homework done first?"

Ron perked up slightly "I suppose we'd better." he agreed, then he shot Draco a sidelong glance. "Look, about what I-"

"It doesn't matter Ron, honestly." he gave him a strained smile. Merlin how he hated playing nice.

"Right. Well," Ron said sheepishly "do you want to go up to Gryffindor then?"

"In a minute," Draco said brusquely, getting up. "I need to go and tell Malfoy I'm rescheduling our meeting till later."

_More like let him know its happening._

"Ah. Right." Ron looked grumpy, but didn't say anything further.

"What are you so happy about?" Harry asked as Malfoy made himself comfortable on the chair opposite him, a small smile on his face and his green eyes flashing with amusement.

"Granger." was all he said

"What about her?" Harry said cautiously

"She tried to recruit me as treasurer in her house elf liberation society." Draco said, his hair falling over his glasses and he leant down to remove his books from his bag.

"House elf…" Harry said in confusion, then felt a shard of hurt when Draco tried to hide another grin. That was _his _friend Malfoy had been having fun with. Harry had been sitting alone in his private room staring at the ceiling while he waited for Draco to finish with Ron.

"Granger's decided that abolishing the enslavement of house elves is going to be her project." Draco said. "Can you imagine, if she knew, who I really was, when she asked me to be in her group?"

Harry had to smile a little at the irony of that. "What did you say?"

"I had to agree, obviously. I never thought I'd say it, but at least Weasel has _some _sense of reality. House elves _like _being enslaved - you just have to look at them working to know it! Can you imagine, though: Draco Malfoy, saviour of house elves! Father would faint!"

Harry looked around, frowning. "You shouldn't say that so loud."

Draco pulled a face as he too scanned the immediate area. "Whoops." he turned back and learned over to speak to Harry confidentially. "I need to talk to you about that too. I don't think we should be seen being friendly in public."

"You think someone knows?" Harry said

"Didn't you hear Moody?" Draco whispered incredulously "You tell old Lucius I'm keeping an eye on his son?" he added when Harry looked blank. "It was _you _was talking to!"

"I was - distracted." Harry said, shrugging as his cheeks tinged pink. "In case you forgot, I'd just been bounced around the courtyard in front of half the school. Did he really say that?

"Yes! He must have noticed you acting differently."

"I don't know." Harry said sceptically "He's an auror, your dad was a Death Eater-"

"You need to stop saying things like that too you know."

"Right, sorry. He's an auror, father was a Death Eater-"

"Better." Draco said approvingly

"It makes sense that they would have run into each other in the past and - er - got off on the wrong foot. And Moody's so paranoid - you've seen him sniffing his food before he eats it, and he prepared all his own drinks - he probably thinks my father's still up to his old tricks."

"Still seems fishy to me." Draco said determinedly "And in any case, we mustn't get careless. We know there's a plan in place to kill me, and it's likely that Dumbledore knows it too."

"Well anyway, how are you getting along in Gryffindor?" Harry said, wanting to change the subject.

"Well … Granger's alright," Draco admitted "When she's not being a busy body and a know-it-all. And Weasley's just an idiot. I think tonight was the only time I've spent with him without wanting to kill him."

"Really?" Harry said, interested "What did you do?"

"Divination homework." Draco said with a small grin, and Harry's stomach twisted in envy at it "It was brilliant. We had to make a prediction for every day of the month, based the positions of the planets. So we made up a month's worth of appallingly unlikely accidents, though I think I may have predicted my death twice…" he tailed off, looking thoughtful.

"Right." Harry said, a little too sharply "Well shall we do some studying then?"

Draco looked up in surprise. "But you haven't told me how Slytherin's been for you?"

Harry shrugged. "It's all right. Nothing special. It's weird not having close friends. I spend most of my time in my room alone."

"I miss it." Draco sighed, looking mournful "I miss being able to shower without four hairy, smelly people with me. Where's my quill?" he began rooting around in his satchel "We really should start with your Arithmancy. Potions can wait, I can't have you losing marks in my favourite class. But anyway, I do miss the clean smell of my own rooms. Gryffindor smells like a pig sty."

Harry had to stifle a snicker. "Well I suppose it would be a bit different, when you're used to a private bathroom…with lavender bubble bath."

"It helps me sleep!" Draco said indignantly as he fished out a hippogriff feathered quill.

Harry laughed, then stopped as he remembered something. "Actually, there was something else I meant to tell you about."

"What is it? Here." Draco shoved some parchment at Harry, then began rifling through one of Harry's textbooks.

"Sirius Black."

"What about him? He's not still after you, is he?"

"He's innocent, and he's my godfather." Harry said quietly. He wished he could write to Sirius. It almost physically hurt, every time he remembered he didn't even have a god father anymore.

"Really? I don't have to meet him, do I? Draco said, looking anxious "I'm still not really used to this, and-"

"No." Harry interrupted, sighing "But he does write letters occasionally, and you'll have to write back."

"I'll just give his letters to you, and you can do it." Draco shrugged "That way I don't have to worry about him being suspicious of my handwriting."

Harry gasped "I didn't even think of that!"

"You've not been writing letters to Moth - your parents, have you?" Draco said suspiciously

"No - it's just that - what if your friends saw my class notes - and what if Ron and Her-"

"I just write as messily as I can, that works." Draco said snidely "But you really should work on your penmanship. You need to try and imitate my writing. Well, you can use my Arithmancy notes from last year to copy from." he patted a large pile of parchment beside him.

"And what should I do about your parent's letters?" Harry asked "I've only got a few so far, but I just put them in the desk drawer-"

"You've not been ignoring them, have you?"

"Well I wasn't going to write back, was I?"

"Why not? At least to mother, you should be trying to act like me at least -"

"Well I'm supposed to be pissed off at them anyway. What exactly am I supposed to say in a letter to my parents when I've only just found out they're alive? Back off dad, let me live my own life?" Harry said hotly. "Not exactly how I pictured my first words to my parents."

There was an awkward silence.

"They're not that great, you know." Draco said to the table "You shouldn't - don't get your hopes up. Telling him to back off is probably not such a bad idea…at least until the summer. Maybe we can figure out a way for you not to go back to the manor."

Harry didn't answer. He didn't really know what to say.

"I suppose it's for the best," Draco continued "if you'd written back with your handwriting…"

"It's just hard." Harry found himself blurting out. "You know, I should be happy my parent are alive. And then I am, but I remember that they're not exactly -"

"What you hoped for." Draco finished, fiddling with his quill.

Harry sat in silence for a few moments, feeling utterly miserable.

"Arithmancy, no?" Draco said awkwardly.

Harry blinked rapidly before he could look at him and nod.

Harry groaned as soon as he saw the writing on the envelope. He untied the letter from the owl, and shoo-d it out the window with his hands. It just wasn't destined to be a happy day today.

First of all, he'd already been awake for four hours, but he still had an hour to go until class. He'd been woken in the middle of the night by another letter from his 'father', who was perhaps now trying to irritate him into replying. Unable to sleep, he'd spent the night lying awake feeling miserable about disappointing his parents before he'd even spoken to them properly.

He cast a dark look towards his desk drawer. He refused to open them without Draco. God only knew that they could be cursed with something nasty. He hadn't exactly been a model son to Lucius so far.

After one last glance at the clock on his bedside table, he abruptly moved through to the bathroom. Perhaps a bath would calm him down.

As he turned the taps and added Draco's lavender bubble bath, he cast and appreciative look over the room's he'd inherited. At least not every part of Draco's life was strange and unwelcome.

Whatever he'd made out to Draco last night, it _was _nice to be alone sometimes. His bed was not only elegantly carved out of dark, antique wood, and hung with green and silver silk, but it was also all his. He didn't have to shut his belongings in his trunk, he could arrange them on the tabletop, hang his clothes in any of his cupboards. Draco had had much more clothes than Harry, he could tell by the three large wardrobes, but it was nice to have space. His trunk was at the bottom of his bed, but it was almost empty.

Harry had felt very strange, arriving in a strange bedroom, and unpacking Draco's belongings as if they were his own. As he'd hung expensive, tailored outfits in the cupboards, he'd marvelled at the various jewelled buttons and pins that he would be wearing with them. Wearing Draco's hand me downs was certainly more enjoyable than wearing Dudley's. He remembered unpacking the small, ebony carving of a dragon which he'd placed on his study table; a spindly, graceful piece of furniture with a built in inkpot and an expensive set of quills already inside the top drawer. He'd wondered what the dragon meant to Draco, and where he'd got it.

When they'd swapped trunks on the train, Harry's thoughts had immediately gone out to his own personal possessions; his photo album, his invisibility cloak, the marauder's map…he wondered what Draco had made of them, whether he'd looked through Harry's trunk yet.

He couldn't help feeling a bit lost, knowing he could no longer sneak out after curfew so easily. Which reminded him, he'd have to tell Draco about how to use the map. It wouldn't be good if Ron or Hermione wanted to use it and Draco had no idea what they were talking about…

There had been a small box at the bottom of Draco's trunk, but Harry hadn't touched it. He knew Draco had thought ahead enough to know that they should swap trunks before school started, so it made sense that he'd have hid all his private things in a box, rather than scatter them amongst his clothing where Harry would have seen them all while he unpacked. Or maybe Draco was just a tidy packer, he didn't know.

By the purple bubbles floating out of the bathroom door, Harry knew the bath must be getting full, so he gritted his jaw and picked up the letter. Scowling at the spiky handwriting on the front, he ripped it open. He was used to only seeing that handwriting in red ink, and all over his homework.

_Draco,_

_Come to my office tonight. I realise there are things you would rather keep to yourself, and believe me, I won't force you to tell me of them. I apologise if I appeared pushy last time, I am only worried for your sake. I, of all people know what it is like to have problems you cannot share, and I know it is only a hindrance to have others questioning you at every turn._

_Know, Draco, that I am here for you if ever you need a listening and unjudging ear, whatever the situation. If you do choose to divulge your problems, understand that I will keep them to myself. I will see you after dinner._

_You can trust me,_

_Severus_

Harry sighed, dropping the letter onto the floor, and walking through to the bathroom, a simple but elegant room with a white tiled floor. It had a bath, a sink with a large mirror above it, and a toilet. There was one small window, like a submarine portal almost, because it was set quite far into the thick stone wall, and it looked out into green water, for evidently this part of the dungeons was under the lake. It was nowhere near as large and impressive as the common room window though. He began to take of his pyjamas.

Honestly, he wanted nothing more than for an adult to take care of this problem, to fix it all, make everything go back to how it had been. But he was old enough to know that it would only complicate things. He stepped into the bath water. It was a little warm, but he got in anyway, slowly, so that his body would get used to the new temperature.

Even if he could pick one person to tell, it would not be Severus Snape. The potions master could promise to keep his mouth shut until he was blue in the face, but as soon as he found out it was Harry Potter that he was wasting his thoughts on, everything would change.

He needed to speak to Draco about all this soon, but for now, he was going to try very hard to think of nothing. Sitting down in the water, he sank below the lilac bubbles, and immediately felt relaxed.

_Now Gryffindor could do with one of these._

Question:

Don't you think its weird that Moody comforts Neville in this chapter in canon when he's actually one of the people who was involved in torturing his parents? Do you think he regrets torturing Frank and Alice or does he just get twisted enjoyment from toying with their son?

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters, they belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any profit from this fic, it's purely for fun.


	7. 7

Chapter 7

Harry didn't remember that the Triwizard Tournament was only weeks away, until Pansy arrived at breakfast looking rather brighter and chipper than usual and immediately sank into a heated gossip session about it with Daphne Greengrass. Harry, who had already prepared himself for his usual uncomfortably tight morning hug, breathed a sigh of relief and made to reach for the coffee pot.

"Oy!" Pansy whipped around, covering the handle with her hands.

"Worth a try." Harry sighed to himself, picking up the pumpkin juice instead. He looked over at the Gryffindor table, and frowned.

He could see Ron making his way through a stack of steaming toast. Cheeks bulging, he leaned over to talk to Hermione, who recoiled in disgust, and lifted the book she was reading between them.

He couldn't see Draco anywhere.

"Staring at Potter again?"

Harry jumped. "What?"

Blaise had sat down beside him, giving him a smirk that Harry didn't really like the look at. Last time Blaise had looked like that, Crabbe had ended up being blackmailed into asking Tracey Davis out, another Slytherin girl who Harry had never taken much notice of before.

Tracey was a quiet, rather ordinary girl who tended to keep to herself. Pansy often sneered at her, albeit behind her back because apparently Tracey could hex someone fast than she could blink. She had medium length, mousy brown hair and freckles and wasn't particularly pretty, though her robes were rather low-cut. Crabbe, however, was completely head over heels for her. Apparently the knowledge of this had been a running joke in Draco's gang for some time, but Harry felt awful for Crabbe, who had stuttered all the way through his proposal, only for Tracy to stifle a snigger behind her hand, and walk off without giving him an answer. Crabbe had looked crushed, and had quickly retreated to his room, followed by Goyle who cast Blaise a reproachful look.

Blaise had only given him a smirk. A smirk just like the one he was wearing now.

"What is it?" Harry asked again

"Nothing." Blaise shrugged "Just wondering why you spend so much time staring at the golden boy. I noticed you've been talking to him too."

"What of it?" Harry replied suspiciously

"Has someone got a crush?" Blaise said innocently/

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. "What?"

"You heard me." Blaise said slyly

Harry stared at him, but Zabini only stared back, as if waiting for an answer.

"That's ridiculous. It's wrong on so many levels that I don't know where to start." Harry spluttered.

"Really? Me thinks thou dost protest too much."

"Well, for a start," Harry said with an incredulous laugh "Potter is a _bloke_, and secondly, we're enemies, and thirdly -" _I can't fancy myself _"-just - no."

Blaise was suddenly the one looking suspicious now, and Harry almost winced. He hurriedly ran over everything he'd just said, looking for clue as to what might have produced that look.

"What do you mean, he's a _bloke_?"

"Well, he's a guy." Harry said, confused

"I'm well aware of that." Blaise snapped "I'm not an idiot."

Harry stared at him, trying to think of what to say. "I don't know what you mean." he said finally.

Blaise looked angry. "Were you lying then?"

"What?"

"Last year when you told me you were gay. You were lying."

"Uh - woah - er - no."

"What do you mean by that?" Blaise snapped

"No, I am gay." Harry felt his face going scarlet. _Why the HELL didn't he tell me! _"I just forgot-"

"You forgot." Blaise said sceptically. "Right."

"Sorry." Harry said in a small voice, feeling his face going red.

"Sorry?" Blaise hissed "Why would you lie about that anyway?"

"I'm not lying!" Harry squeaked "I honestly forgot-"

"Yeah right." Blaise scoffed "Was it a test? To see if I-" he looked away abruptly "Never mind. Go back to watching your boyfriend."

Harry looked down at the table, cheeks burning. _Great. So now I'm gay. Thanks for nothing, Malfoy._

Malfoy did show his face at breakfast, but only five minutes before classes were due to start. Harry shot him a glance, and stood up and walked out of the hall. Seconds later, Draco met him in the entrance hall, looking irritated.

"Care to explain why I can't make the most of the time I have to eat left?"

"Care to explain why everyone except me knows I'm gay?" Harry shot back, folding his arms.

"_What_?" Draco said, looking shocked.

"Blaise just told me I confessed to being gay last year. Why didn't you tell me? I made a right fool out of myself!" Harry snapped

"Wait - who else did you tell?" Draco said, looking alarmed.

"No one." Harry said "Why does it matter?"

"I only ever told Blaise. You said everyone knew - but how?"

"I may have exaggerated!" Harry said, getting a little riled up "But that's not the point! Everyone thinks I'm gay!"

"Blaise isn't everyone." Draco said, looking at Harry oddly "Does it bother you or something."

"Does it - I'm _straight_!" Harry snapped "I don't _want _to be gay, and it's embarrassing, people thinking that-"

"Oh _really_." Draco said, folding his arms, his eyes suddenly cold. "Well thanks for the support."

Harry stopped, wincing "Oh - that's not what I -"

"Yeah? Then what did you mean? Gay is for other people to embarrass themselves with, not for the great and mighty Potter ?" Draco's eyes flashed, and Harry shrank back a little. He wondered if he'd ever looked made his own face, when he'd had it, look as cold and frightening as Draco was making it at that moment.

"No - I -"

"Merlin forbid that anyone should imply you like men, I mean, how perverted-"

"Stop it!" Harry held up his hands "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't." Draco snapped "But thanks for making your feelings clear." he made as if to walk away

"No - wait!" Harry grabbed his arm. Malfoy shook him off, but stopped long enough for Harry to speak.

"Look, I'm sorry. I really am, I was just surprised - wait!" Harry grabbed Draco again as he tried to leave again

"Will you get _off _me!" Draco shoved him off roughly, and Harry's temper rose

"No! Look, you won't forgive me, fine. But so what? We were never friends anyway! Why does it even matter what I think?"

Harry had never seen his own face look so threatening.

"I never said we were friends either Potter," Malfoy snarled "but thanks for clearing that -"

"I got a letter this morning," Harry cut in, hoping a change in conversation would help. "We have bigger fish to fry." He was worried about this meeting with Snape. He didn't think he could survive a meeting with someone who knew Draco so well.

"I don't give a shit, Potter" said Malfoy "why should I-"

"Because if I don't play my part, it could affect you too. Snape's asked for another meeting-" Harry continued desperately

"Oh is that all!" Draco snarled "Deal with it Potter. The same as last time, just say your father's been giving you a hard time!"

"You've got to give me more than that!" Harry said furiously, then dropped his voice to a whisper "Look, I don't know what to say. He wants to know the exact spells Lucius taught you! He's like a stranger, he's so different towards you. What I really need is some memories, something, anything I can talk about with-"

"Fuck off Potter!" Draco spat "You - say what you just said to me, then you expect me to tell you about private memories after -"

"At least tell me what the hell you mean by Lucius giving you a hard time!" Harry shot back

"He put the cruciatus curse on me, Potter, that's what I mean." The shock must have shown on Harry's face, and Malfoy watched his expression with satisfaction for a moment, before adding "Is that sufficient, Potter? Need I go into more detail?"

"But - but he's your _father_!" Harry said, appalled.

"And what?" Draco shot back, surprising Harry by giving him a rough shove towards the wall, making him stumble. "Got any nasty comments to make on that? Any judgmental insults?"

"Stop it!" Harry stood back up straight, "You can't get offended that I'm surprised - that's an illegal curse, and I've seen what it does! Why would you want to do that to your son? I mean that spider -"

"It wasn't like that!" Draco's voice was getting louder "You heard Moody, you have to _mean _it, you have to want to cause pain. Father just wanted to punish me, not hurt me properly-"

"It still sounds barbaric." Harry said emptily. This was _his_ father -

BAM

"What the hell -" Harry grabbed Malfoy's arm before it could land again, his other hand clutching his jaw as it throbbed.

"Don't you dare speak -" Malfoy tried to hit Harry with his other fist, but Harry blocked it

"What, you're defending him now? You're the one who said - hey!" Harry squirmed, trying to keep hold of both of Malfoy's wrists.

"-my father -" Draco was saying. Harry let go of his wrists and gave him a shove away from himself.

"Look, he's not your father." he said "You don't have to defend him-"

"Shut up!" Malfoy said, backing away. "Just -" for a long moment, Harry and Draco just stared at each other angrily.

Harry sighed, breaking the silence first. "I'm sorry."

"I hate you." Draco whispered, then spun on his heal and charged into the dungeons. Harry didn't even bother telling him he was going the wrong way.

Draco only realised what he was doing after he had raised his hand to knock on Severus's door.

_Shit. _

Just as he turned to make his way back to class, the door opened behind him.

"Potter?" came the cold voice "What are you doing loitering around outside my office? Classes are about to start. Ten points from Gryffindor."

"Got lost." Draco whispered mindlessly as he walked off. He didn't even hear Snape calling "Potter!" after him.

"But - but that's illegal professor!" Pansy said, her voice rather shrill, and Harry tuned into the lesson rather hastily. He should know better, really, than to daydream in Moody's class, even if he'd largely been ignored last time, but he couldn't stop thinking about Malfoy.

He'd messed up, he knew. He hadn't meant to say those things, he was only surprised. And on top of that, it was a lot to ask of someone, to suddenly be told that you're gay and that's just how things are going to have to be.

Of course, in the future Harry could always say that he'd been wrong, he was straight after all. Hadn't he heard people say it could just be a phase? But there would always be rumours…

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had always said that homosexuals were the lowest of the low. Even Harry was normal according to them, compared to that kind of freak. He didn't need people in the wizarding world looking at him like that…this was the one place where he'd felt at home, and now…

He wished he'd never said anything to Draco though. _He _didn't think any less of him, why hadn't he told Malfoy that? Harry was probably one of the few people who wouldn't judge someone for something like that, because if Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia disapproved, people like that couldn't be all that bad. Only, he could see, in his mind's eye, Hermione looking at him like he was scum on his shoe, how Ron would laugh and taunt. They wouldn't hold back, because he was Malfoy now. What would the teachers say? He shuddered. He'd thought, as Draco Malfoy, that maybe he could live an ordinary life.

He had to apologise to Draco. Maybe he wouldn't have got angry about his father and hit him, if Harry hadn't been so tactless…_why_ oh _why _had he said they weren't friends? Sure, it was a way of deflecting attention back onto Draco after Harry's fumbling for the right words and coming up with the opposite, but still it wasn't exactly a nice thing to say…and Harry had actually been starting to like being with Draco too.

Harry groaned aloud, forgetting where he was.

"Malfoy!" Harry jumped to attention. Moody was glaring down at him, his beady eye full of dislike as the glass one spun wildly in its socked.

"Sir. Sorry." He said respectfully

"I should think so. Just because you learned all this at the knee of your scumbag father, doesn't mean you don't have to pay attention in my class. Be prepared, you're after Goyle."

That stung. Harry stared at Moody as he stumped back to the front of the class, outraged on Draco's behalf. How could Dumbledore hire someone like this?

"Ready Mr Goyle?" Harry looked up as Goyle nodded and Moody twitched his wand at him. "_Imperio_!"

_What? _Harry looked around the class, alarmed, but no one looked shocked. On the contrary, they all looked amused. He looked back to the front of the glass, where Goyle was trying desperately to stand on his head.

"But that's illegal! He said so himself!" Harry whispered to the boy next to him, which just happened to be Terry Boot of Ravenclaw.

"Weren't you paying attention at all?" The boy replied, his eyes narrowed with dislike through his glasses "Dumbledore gave him permission."

"Malfoy!" Harry turned back to the front of the class, about to apologise, but Moody jerked his head toward the blackboard.

"Your turn Malfoy, don't look so stunned, I did warn you."

Harry got up as Goyle sank back into his seat in the front row looking relieved, probably because Moody hadn't made him do anything too humiliating. He walked to the front of the class, then waited apprehensively as Moody approached him, wand raised and mouth twisted in what might have been a smirk or an expression of disgust on his mangled face.

"_Imperio!_"

It was the most wonderful feeling. Harry felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in his head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. He stood there, feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching him.

And then he heard Mad-Eye Moody's voice, echoing in some distant chamber of his empty brain: _Sing … sing a song…_

Harry opened his mouth obediently, and took a breath.

_Sing the first song that comes into your head_

_Why though?_

Another voice had woken in the back of his brain.

_Stupid thing to do, really. _said the voice.

_Sing a song…_

_No, I don't think I will, thanks, _said the other voice, a little more firmly, _no, I really don't want to._

_Sing! NOW!_

The next thing Harry did was make a sort of muffled squawk, and the empty, echoing feeling in his head disappeared.

He could hear the class laughing at him.

"Look at that, you lot…Malfoy fought! He may have had some practice, what with his father…" Moody added in a dour tone "But the point is, he nearly beat it! Again, Malfoy."

Harry's shoulders slumped; he'd been about to make his way back to his desk.

"The rest of you, pay attention - watch his eyes, that's where you see it - _Imperio!_"

Draco found himself swinging between fury and depression. At times all he could think of was Harry saying 'We were never friends anyway!", hurtling from one hurtful statement to another, and _then _having the audacity to demand personal memories from him.

After he stopped thinking of that though, he'd start to feel the hurt of the things Harry had actually said. First of all, he was disgusted Draco was gay. It shouldn't matter that he thought that, they _weren't _friends. And all Harry had done was to state the obvious, but that he'd done so _hurt _anyway.

So what if they weren't friends? It was the _principal_ of the thing. He should have respected Draco's sexuality without awful comments, and have the decorum not to mention that they weren't friends.

But principals couldn't explain away that more than Draco's pride was hurt.


	8. 8

Chapter 8

That week seemed to grow harder for Draco by the day. He knew Snape was looking at him oddly now, and Ron and Hermione were as well. He felt utterly miserable, and his godfather's door was barred to him, so he was alone. At least when he and Potter had been talking he hadn't been alone.

But Potter was disgusted with him, and it turned out he hadn't even liked him after all of the things that had happened to them. Draco had thought they got along well, he wouldn't have called it friendship himself, but it had been an immense source of relief to him, to know that he wasn't in this alone, or at least he wasn't in this with a hostile enemy.

But it turned out he _was _in this mess alone, and Potter had only been nice to him for convenience for all this time apparently.

On top of all this, teachers were piling on homework like it was going out of fashion. Classes were harder; even Binns had them writing weekly essays. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, his and Ron's Divination homework was a roaring success, and Trelawney read it out to the class aloud. She did seem surprised at how calm they were, despite all the oncoming disasters threatening, and perhaps that's when she grew suspicious, because she asked them to do the same work for next months homework too.

Even Hagrid had somehow managed to make his classes harder. When he suggested that as a side project the class members could babysit the Blast-Ended Skrewts on alternate nights and write reports on their findings, Draco had had to catch himself before he made a comment that wouldn't sound right coming from Potter.

Potter did it for him.

Draco didn't hear what Harry said, but Hagrid turned on him, an ugly, brutish look on his face.

"Yeh'll do wha' yer told, Malfoy," Hagrid growled "an' I'll be havin' none o' yer lip, understan'? Or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book…I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."

Potter must have been having some bad day to mouth off about his favourite mutant, so Draco couldn't help laughing along with the Gryffindors, despite the hurt look on Harry's face, which only deepened when they locked eyes.

Draco was distracted from his melancholy thoughts when Ron and Hermione stopped short in front of him on the way to their next class, causing him to step on the back of their shoes.

"Ouch! Harry, watch where you're going, that hurt!"

"Sorry." he muttered, looking around.

The entrance hall was full off student milling around a large sign on the wall. As they gradually shuffled closer, Draco could read the words.

_TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT_

_The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving at 6 o'clock on Friday 30__th__ of October. Lessons will end half an hour early._

Draco could tell when Weasley read that last part because of the excited gurgle he emitted. He rolled his eyes. What a troll.

_Students will return their bags and books to their dormitories and assemble in front of the castle to greet our guests before the Welcoming Feast._

"Only a week away!" A fat Hufflepuff that Draco had never spoken to exclaimed excitedly. "Does Cedric know? I'll have to tell him!" He rushed off.

"Cedric?" said Ron

"Diggory." Draco said immediately, then felt himself flush. Hermione caught it, and looked at him oddly.

"Is that idiot going to try for Hogwarts Champion?" Ron snorted

"He's not an idiot!" Draco said hotly

"He's a really good student, he always gets top marks!" Hermione added "And he's a _prefect_!"

"Merlin!" Ron said, stepping back "I was just saying - and what's up with you two? Hermione, you probably only like him because he's _handsome_," he said scathingly "but what's your excuse?" he added to Draco.

"I - uh - he's a good Seeker." Draco said blankly. He really should watch his mouth.

It didn't matter however, because Hermione was talking over him. "Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!"

Ron made a loud, false cough which sounded oddly like 'Lockhart', and Draco stared at Hermione incredulously. Maybe they had more in common than he'd first thought…

For the next week, Harry couldn't go thirty seconds without hearing a conversation that involved the tournament in some way or another. Pansy was constantly harping on about what she'd heard about 'Beauxbaton boys', and he figured she was trying to make him jealous. He was certain that that had something to do with Blaise, and sure enough the next time she started on about it, he looked up to Zabini smirking at him. He paid her back by revealing he was meeting up with a French girl over Christmas, remembering the first letter he'd ever received from Narcissa.

Of course, that stirred up anxieties in Harry's stomach which he'd managed to forget about until now. How on earth was he going to avoid going home for Christmas? Malfoy had never done so, so he'd have to think of a way that didn't make him look out of character…he really needed to find a way to make up with Draco.

There was still plenty of time though - two whole months before December even begun, so Harry shoved the worry into the back of his mind.

It wasn't just the students who were excited about the new arrivals. The teachers seemed very concerned over what the foreigners might think of the school, and Harry noticed that Filch was looking rather worn out and bedraggled whereas the castle was positively gleaming. Even the dungeons near Slytherin were now brightly lit with new torches and all the suits of armour weren't missing pieces or dented anymore and they were all looking quite shiny - and suitably chastened after McGonagall had had a word with them about sword fighting with each other.

On the day the other schools were due to arrive, Harry was confused when he looked over at Gryffindor to see that Neville was having his ears re-attached by McGonagall. The next thing he noticed as he sat down, was that the hall was adorned with huge silk banners representing each house. They were hanging on the normally bare stone walls, making the hall look rather festive, and there was a large Hogwarts crest hanging behind the high table.

Draco glared hard when he noticed Harry staring at the Gryffindor table. It took a few moments, but when Potter's eyes finally settled on him, they looked taken back, then he looked away. Draco felt a smug sense of satisfaction.

"I hope you two aren't still thinking about trying to enter?" Hermione was saying, and Draco turned to see she was talking to Fred and George Weasley. He rolled his eyes. He'd forgotten they were cooking up some hair-brained plan to fool Dumbledore, and whoever this impartial judge was, that they were of age.

"I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen," one of them said bitterly "but she wasn't telling. She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my racoon."

"Hey Harry," Ron said, nudging him "What do you think the tasks will be like? I reckon we might be able to do them, we've done dangerous stuff before!"

_Honestly, the arrogance is almost endearing. I can see why Potter likes him, he's like a cocky version of Crabbe and Goyle._

"Not in front of a panel of judges, you haven't." One of the twins told Ron

"Who are the judges?" Draco asked

"Well, the Heads of the participating schools are always on the panel," Hermione said, and everyone looked around at her, rather surprised, "because all three of them were injured during the Tournament of 1792, when a cockatrice the champions were supposed to be catching went on the rampage."

She noticed them all looking at her, and said, with her usual air of impatience that nobody else had read all the books she had, "It's all in _Hogwarts: A History. _Though, of course, that book's not _entirely _reliable. "A _Revised _History of Hogwarts" would be a more accurate title. Or "A Highly Biased and _Selective _History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School."

"What are you -?" Ron began

"House elves." Draco sighed, dropping his face into his hands. "What else?"

"What else?" Hermione said shrilly "How can you say that, as if the primary history text of our school, doesn't mention, not in over a thousand pages, that we are all colluding in oppression of a hundred slaves!"

Ron busied himself with his scrambled eggs, and Draco imitated him. Hermione had treated the entire house to a speech last night, after no one else had agreed to sign up to the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Draco still had the collection tin she'd given him, as his due as treasurer of the charity, in the dorm somewhere. It still had the four sickles that he and Ron had paid for their own badges to get her off their backs about it, but she was still nagging them to wear the blasted things, which Draco thought was just unreasonable. The things read SPEW for Merlin's sake!

The rest of the day was rather pleasant. No one paid much attention in classes, and there was a feeling of excitement in the air. Draco was mildly disappointed that Potions was cut short by half an hour though, and they didn't get to brew anything that day.

"Thank Merin that's over!" Ron said loudly as they left the cauldron, and Draco agreed good-naturedly, just because he was supposed to be Potter. Sometimes he wondered why the Gryffindors were so shocked that Snape treated them badly, he was the only one in Gryffindor who treated potion making seriously. The others didn't seem to grasp the fact that you couldn't get distracted and do things like talk to a friend for five minutes halfway through adding an ingredient, something Weasley, Finnigan, and Thomas seemed to think was a mandatory part of the exercise. Oddly, Longbottom came the closest to proper behaviour, even if only due to the likelihood of explosions if he didn't.

It was only the intervention of Ron as Draco's Potions partner that made sure their work was never perfect enough as to rouse Severus' suspicion.

The only thing Draco hated about the class was how Severus looked at him. He glared, scowled, frowned, and generally looked anything but approachable. Draco never volunteered information in classes, but Snape picked on him in almost every class, and didn't seem soothed by the fact that Draco knew all the answers.

"Since when are you so good at potions?" Ron had been saying a lot recently, but Draco would just shrug and pin the blame on 'study meetings with Malfoy', which of course would have been a lie even if he and Harry had spoken in the last few weeks.

On the other hand, it appeared that Harry was doing a lot better at potions now that Snape was picking on someone else for a change. He was still clumsier and less precise than Draco, and Snape was picking up on it - Draco could see him casting concerned looks at Harry during class - but it wasn't as bad as it might have been. Draco wondered if Harry had gone to that meeting with Severus. Probably not, he concluded, as Snape's glances had been growing more and more concerned over the weeks.

When the bell rang, Draco rushed up to Gryffindor tower with Ron and Hermione to dump their bags in the common room, before returning hurriedly to the entrance hall, to find that the heads of houses were arranging the pupils into lines on the front lawn.

McGonagall chivvied him into line with the other fourth year Gryffindors, with the third years in front of them, then the second years, and the little first years at the front. There was a low buzz of excited voices in the balmy evening air, and Draco couldn't help feeling a little excited too.

"Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair." McGonagall snapped as swept past, her eyes roving over her students for loosened ties, unfastened top buttons, and wonky hats. Draco, so used to being Harry by now, found it ridiculously easy to smother the smirk he would usually have shot at the Patil girl.

He turned around to look for Potter. At first he couldn't see him in the crowd of Slytherins, who were only just being led onto the grass by Snape. He couldn't help notice already how much more orderly they were, although he didn't bother hiding his smirk this time when he saw Severus drop back and snap something at Pansy, who looked sulky and tugged her skirt down so that it covered her knees.

Beside her was Nott, and beside Nott was Harry. Harry too looked sullen, and a little morose. His arms were folded, and when the Slytherins turned to face the front, he slouched, his ash blond hair lifting in the wind. It must have been tickling his face, because Harry tried to blow it out the way with his breath, before impatiently swiping it back with his arm.

Draco felt a little worried; Harry wasn't doing well at pretending to be him. Pansy was leaning over now, to talk to Harry, and he only looked at her for a moment before shrugging and looking away, his grey eyes narrowed against a sudden sharp gust of wind. Snape called something over to him, and Harry reached up and rearranged his green and silver tie. At that moment, he happened to look up and catch Draco's eye.

When he saw Draco was looking at him, Harry's heart rose. Here was his chance! Before Malfoy could look away, Harry shot him a pleading glance, and mouthed 'sorry', trying to look as apologetic as he could.

Draco stared back at him, his black hair still unruly, but rather neater than Harry had ever managed to make it. Something flickered in his green eyes, and he was distracted suddenly as the wind blew Draco's fringe back and the lightening scar was revealed.

When Harry tore his eyes away from the jagged lightening bolt, Draco was already turning back to face the front.

"_There!" _someone directly behind Draco yelled, and he turned indignantly to glare at the sixth year, his right hand clamped over his ear. Predictably, the Gryffindor did not apologise, but shot him a disparaging glance, before focusing her eyes back on the horizon. Draco turned back to see too.

There was an object in the sky, only its silhouette visible in the darkening sky. It was very far up, but it was growing larger and larger every second.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked a first year girl, grabbing her friend for support.

Draco shot her an incredulous look. What dragons are _square_?

"Don't be stupid -" another kid snapped at her "it's a flying house!"

"Oh for the love of -" Draco started

"Well do you know what it is?" Hermione demanded suddenly, and Draco decided not to deign to answer her.

The thing was now revealed to be being pulled by large animals of some kind - Draco could see their wings, their legs and their long necks moving and guessed them to be some breed of Abraxan horse, and as they and the object they pulled grew nearer and closer to the ground it seemed to speed faster and faster, until Draco could see wheels skimming the tips of the trees in the Forbidden Forest.

"It's a horse-drawn carriage." Draco realised aloud, and just as he spoke, it was hit by the light from the castle, and he could see that the gigantic carriage was powder blue in colour, and there were twelve Abraxan horses, all monstrously large.

The carriage was hurtling lower and lower, angled in their direction, and the first three rows of students began tripping over themselves to move out of the way. Draco roughly pushed the older Creevy brother off the hem of his robes and stepped back and bracing himself for the almighty _crash _as the horses' hooves touched down.

The carriage rolled forward at a more relaxed pace for a distance as the horses came to a halt, and Draco saw the Beauxbatons emblem on the carriage door just before it opened, and a skinny, nervous looking blonde boy hopped out and began fiddling with something under the carriage floor and unfolded a set of golden steps.

The woman that emerged from the carriage next caused some commotion among the Hogwarts students.

"Hagrid has a sister?" Draco said in confusion to Ron, who shrugged without halting his gaping.

The woman, now finished descending the steps, was looking around imperiously at the wide-eyed crowd in a manner that reminded Draco somewhat of his mother. It struck him that that alone said a lot about the type of woman this person was, because she very obviously, like Hagrid, had giant blood in her family, and people generally didn't give the kind of respect that this woman was commanding to half-breeds.

She had a rather masculine face, yet it had a beauty and elegance about it all the same, although her nose reminded Draco somewhat of a beak. Her skin was tanned and put him in mind of warm, sunny places, and her hair was pulled back tightly into a gleaming bun, which matched her long, black satin robe, and she wore opals on her neck and fingers.

Someone started to clap, and turning, Draco saw it was Dumbledore. Several of the older students began to follow his lead, and he joined in along with the rest of the school as the monstrous womann's face relaxed into a gracious smile.

_She's used to this,_ Draco thought, _she really must have built up a hell of a reputation in France if this is her usual reception._

As Dumbledore and the woman approached each other, she held out a glittering hand, and Dumbledore barely had to bend his neck to kiss it, even though he himself was tall.

"My dear Madame Maxime, "he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Madame Maxime replied in a deep voice "I 'ope I find you well?"

"On excellent form, I thank you." said Dumbledore

"My pupils," said Madame Maxine, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Draco's eyes shot to the group of young people who had gathered, unnoticed, in two lines behind her. They were wearing robes of silk, and none of them wore any cloaks, so it was unsurprising that they were shivering, and some had wrapped shawls and scarves around their heads. They were looking at Hogwarts in a way that Draco thought might be akin to how he might look at the Weasley house, and he couldn't help feeling a little ruffled at that. He knew Beauxbatons had a modern building more akin to a palace or ministry building than an old castle, but _really,_ Hogwarts had over a thousand years of history over their school!

"'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked, and Draco frowned. He'd heard that name before…he shrugged. Father had originally wanted him to attend Durmstrang, he had probably told Draco the headmaster's name at one point or another and he had forgotten.

"He should be here any moment," said Dumbledore. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," said Madame Maxime, "But ze 'orses-"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," said Dumbledore, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation which has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."

"Skrewts." Ron said, nodding with a grin.

"I hope we won't have to deal with similar 'slight situations' in our next class." Draco muttered back.

"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," said Madame Maxime, looking doubtful. "Zey are very strong…"

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," said Dumbledore, smiling.

"Very well," said Madame Maxime, bowing slightly, "will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whisky?"

"It will be attended to," sid Dumbledore, also bowing.

With that, Madame Maxime ordered her students to follow her, and the Hogwarts pupil hurriedly parted to allow them to pass.

"Who stuck a wand up their arses?" Draco said, raising an eyebrow as the Beauxbaton's students seemed to shrink away from them all as they passed, holding themselves as if they were walking through a muddy field in expensive shoes.

"Harry!" Hermione scolded, just as Ron burst into sniggers.

"They look like Malfoy, bloody ponces!" he snorted, and Draco stiffened.

The three of them stood in expectant silence, whilst the other pupils began muted conversations as they waited, staring hopefully up at the sky. Beauxbatons' horses snorted and stamped the ground occasionally, but apart from that, the grounds were silent.

"Can you hear something?" Ron said suddenly

Draco's eyes shot immediately towards the lake. He didn't know what it was, but that sucking, roaring sound, the muffled rumbling growing louder and louder, brought to mind a whirlpool, or a waterfall, or perhaps both, and the lake was the nearest source of water.

"The lake!" shouted someone "Look!"

They could clearly see the smooth, black surface of the lake - only it wasn't smooth at all. Near the middle, there was some sort of commotion. The water was rippling and bubbling, and suddenly waves were washing at the muddy banks. Then very suddenly, a whirlpool appeared, as if the lake was about to be drained via a plug hole.

A long, black pole began to rise out of the middle of the whirlpool, and as rigging followed it, Ron and Draco came to the same conclusion.

"A ship!" they breathed together in awe.

"Oh my." Hermione said

Draco didn't envy the Durmstrang students. Their ship looked cold and gloomy, like a ghost ship. Yes, it was impressive; it gleamed in the moonlight, and it was just as huge and majestic as the carriage from Beauxbatons, but all the same, the misty lights at the portals made him shudder.

The waves splashed loudly as the boat finally emerged fully, bobbing in the water violently, and Draco's stomach churned for those on board experiencing the motion. The boat was now gliding towards the shore, and stopped when it reached the shadows. There was a splash as the anchor was lowered, and a gang plank could be seen, being lowered onto the bank.

Pupils began to make their way out of the ship and along the walk way to land. They were all wearing thick cloaks made with shaggy fur, except for the figure in front whose furs were rather sleeker, and gleamed silver.

The man himself, who Draco took to be Karkaroff, called out to Dumbledore as he came into the light.

"Dumbledore!" he called, in a voice so hearty that it had to be false "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," replied Dumbledore, shaking his hand, which Karkaroff clasped with both of his own.

The man was tall and thin, and he had short, silvery hair and a wispy goatee the same bright colour. "Dear old Hogwarts," he said, his voice ringing with false warmth "How good it is to be here, how good…" Draco shuddered as slimy yellow teeth were revealed as his lips curled into a smile, but the man's eyes remained shrewd.

"Victor, come along, into the warmth…you don't mind, Dumbledore? Victor has a slight head cold…"

Draco's jaw dropped, and he turned to exchange an incredulous expression with Ron.

"What are you two gawking at?" Hermione whispered, giving Ron a nudge when he didn't answer.

"It's the seeker of the Bulgarian National Quidditch team!" Draco whispered back, though he couldn't take his eyes off the receding back of the celebrity, as he was lead into the castle.

"Is that all?" Hermione said disdainfully

"Is that -!" Ron started, but Draco cut him off because he couldn't abide their bickering and he could sense they were about to start.

"We were just surprised to see him is all." he said quickly "I didn't know he was in school."

"Even famous Quidditch players have to go to school!" Hermione said

"I know that!" Ron snapped "It's just I thought he was older!"

"Well, I still don't see what you're-"

"Come on, let's go into the hall." Draco said abruptly, pulling Ron with him as their line began to file back inside the castle.


	9. 9

Chapter 9

"Come on, let's go into the hall." Draco said abruptly, pulling Ron with him as their line began to file back inside the castle.

Draco's manoeuvring did no good in getting closer to Krum. As they made their way into the hall and towards the Gryffindor table, girls were squealing, and people were pushing to get a better view of Krum as he and his classmates seated themselves at the Slytherin table, not far from Harry.

"Oh for heaven's sake!" Hermione said with great exasperation "This is ridiculous!"

"You can't exactly blame them," Ron replied "he is an international player - do you have a quill I can borrow? Maybe he'll sign a napkin for me."

"You can't be serious, Ron!"

And there it began.

Draco sat down and examined the new arrivals with Ron and Hermione's raised voices in the background. The Beauxbatons students were huddled at the far side of the Ravenclaw table, still wrapped in their shawls and surveying their surroundings with disdain. The Durmstrang students on the other hand, looked enchanted with the starry ceiling, and Draco saw one sly looking boy pocket one of the golden goblets.

The feast that night was rather more adventurous than usual, with several foreign dishes included which Draco dug into with relish. He had always enjoyed the Hogwarts feasts, but it was nice to have something a little different. He particularly enjoyed the Boullabaise, which reminded him of those long ago summers spent in Paris, but also because he enjoyed making Ron disgruntled. Weasley had wasted no time in turning up his nose at any dish he hadn't seen his porky mother produce at home, so Draco had immediately made a grab for the Bouillabaise and tucked in. At one point they were interrupted by some Beauxbatons tart who obviously thought the Hogwarts fare was too good for her, and he'd had to relinquish the dish, but he made sure she caught his glare. Weasley on the other hand seemed utterly entranced with her.

"What?" he said uncomfortable to Hermione, who was watching him again, but she didn't answer.

Up at the high table, two ministry representatives stood up from their meal as the remaining food on the golden plates vanished. Dumbledore joined them and launched into an introductory speech, which was unnecessary for Draco. He remembered Barty Crouch Senior of the Department of International Cooperation from several boring dinner parties he had suffered over the years. Ludo Bagman, generally regarded as a joke in the ministry, received much louder applause from the students, possible because he had once played for the Wimbourne Wasps, but maybe perhaps it was also down to his wide, foolish smile, which contrasted rather drastically with Crouch's tight, pained grimace.

When Dumbledore finally got down to business, and called for a 'casket', the hall quietened, and Draco's eyes fluttered over to Harry at the Slytherin table, who caught his eye. He saw him mouth please, but Draco ignored him. He still hadn't forgiven Potter for being so…

Unkind was the word that came to mind, but it didn't sound right. Impolite perhaps would be better, but it didn't quite match with the pain Draco felt inside whenever he thought of what Harry had said.

Draco watched, half-distracted by his thoughts, as an old wooden trunk, encrusted with jewels was brought in, balanced on Filch's shoulder. He couldn't help thinking it was a rather poor way of bringing in such a priceless relic, but Filch looked rather proud, and for the first time Draco noticed he was wearing rather mouldy and moth-eaten dress robes.

"The instructions for the tasks the champions will face this year have already been examined by Mr Crouch and Mr Bagman," Dumbledore said as the trunk was placed on the table in front of him. "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced throughout the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways…their magical prowess - their daring - their powers of deduction - and, of course, their ability to cope with danger."

The hall was fraught with tension.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament, one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector…the Goblet of Fire."

Draco watched, mesmerised, along with the rest of the school as the headmaster opened the casket by tapping it three times with his wand. He reached inside and pulled out a disappointingly rough looking wooden goblet. The only interesting feature of it was the bright blue flames licking at the brim.

Dumbledore closed the casket, and placing the cup on top of it for all to see, said "Anyone wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment, and drop it into the Goblet. Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Hallowe'en, the Goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The Goblet will be placed in the Entrance Hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete. To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," continued Dumbledore "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the Entrance Hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line. Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this Tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the Tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the Goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are whole-heartedly prepared to play, before you drop your name into the Goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Goodnight to you all."

"Draco!"

The urgent whisper was the only warning he had before Draco was roughly wrenched sideways into a hole behind a tapestry.

"Potter! Unhand me!" he snapped indignantly, trying to peel Harry's fingers from his arm.

"I need to talk to you!"

Draco was about to make a snide reply, before he saw Harry's expression. Potter did look rather desperate, and when he stopped struggling, his expression changed to on suitably apologetic.

"Go on then, make it good." Draco said instead.

"What?"

"The apology."

Harry stared at him for a moment, his pale hair gleaming in the half-light. Then it clicked. "Sometimes I forget who I'm dealing with." he said resignedly. "Look Draco, I'm really, really sorry. I didn't mean the things I said to sound that way. I have no problem with - er - your preferences."

"My preferences? Can you sound any more patronizing?!" Draco snapped "And what are you apologising for? It's all superfluous anyway, I mean, we aren't friends -"

"I didn't mean to say that!" Harry blurted out, then soldiered on "It was sort of true, but I've actually quite liked hanging around with you."

Draco glared at him.

"I'm sorry." Harry repeated "I know I should think before I speak sometimes. It was rude of me to say we weren't friends, and it wasn't really true because we get along well enough. I shouldn't have pushed you about Lucius either."

"No," Draco said coldly "you shouldn't."

"My aunt and uncle always talked about - " he hesitated "-gays like it was worse than being a wizard. I didn't know how to talk about it - I still don't, but I'm sorry. I have nothing against it, it's just I'm only just getting to live a normal person's life - well as normal as you are," he added wryly "and now people are going to hate me for being gay."

Draco examined Harry for a moment. He wanted a better apology than that. He wanted Harry to say he was sorry for hurting his feelings, that he'd never meant to say they weren't friends, that - argh, but Draco couldn't say all that. This was the best he was going to get. And besides, they weren't friends.

Draco felt a little sad every time he thought about that. Potter was the only one in this with him, and they did get along reasonably well when they weren't arguing. Reasonably well - that wasn't much, but there was something else too. He rubbed alongside Pansy and Blaise, and Crabbe and Goyle reasonably well too, but he never felt the need to be closer. Maybe it was because Harry already knew such a lot about him, but Draco really wouldn't have minded sharing secrets with him. He wanted to know him better.

"Well?" Harry's voice knocked him out of his reverie, and Draco focussed on his anxious face.

"When the apology gift arrives," Draco said in his snottiest voice, and trying not to smirk "I'll consider it."

He turned on his heel and left, pushing the tapestry out of the way.

"Apology gift?" Harry said blankly after him.

Draco kept walking, but allowed himself a smirk once he was looking the other way. Unfortunately, he wasn't watching where he was going, or who had just watched Harry Potter climb out of a hidden alcove with Draco Malfoy.

"What the hell Harry?" Ron's voice said in his face, as Draco tried to adjust his eyes to the sudden appearance of red hair and freckles very close to his face as he backed away.

"Er-." was all he could think of.

"What's wrong?" Hermione hurried up to them, looking from Ron to Draco in confusion. "We're going to be late for the Hallowe'en feast."

"Well?" Ron asked, his voice threatening

"What do you-" Hermione began, but Ron turned to her, his ears bright red.

"Harry just climbed out from that tunnel behind the tapesty with Malfoy, grinning!"

"Nothing happened." Draco said panicked "We were just joking around! That's all, I was happy!"

Hermione turned her all-seeing gaze on him. Stop it! Stop thinking! Draco wanted to shout

"Why would you look that happy?" Ron said, his voice threatening "You said you made up with him, but you never said he was going to be your best friend!"

"Ron, stop over-reacting." Hermione said, grabbing his arm "Harry can be friendly with people without being their best friend-"

"As long as that's all it is." Ron said, giving Draco a cold, hard stare, then turning away, pulling Hermione with him.

Draco could only stare after him in shock, as Hermione's eyes suddenly lit up with sudden knowledge.

Oh. Shit.

Ron had no idea. He was too thick to possibly consider that his friend was gay, it was more likely he thought that he was in danger of losing his place as Harry Potter's best friend to Draco Malfoy. Hermione though…

Draco was careful not to look over at Harry while he was eating. He immersed himself in the conversation Neville was having with Dean and Seamus, while he felt Hermione's eyes on him.

Please don't let her tell Ron what she suspects…

Weasley would probably confront 'Draco Malfoy' and Harry would probably flip his lid if he thought any more people 'knew' he was supposedly gay. Draco hoped Ron and Hermione weren't homophobic, because Potter had been very worried about people hating him for being gay, and now his own friends would see him as the corrupting influence…

He didn't want Potter to fall out with him,

"Well, the Goblet is almost ready to make its decision." Dumbledore said, standing up. He waved his wand and the empty dishes disappeared from the tables. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber -" he motioned to a door behind the staff table "-where they will be receiving their first instructions."

With that, Dumbledore raised his wand again, and with a sweeping motion extinguished every light in the hall, so that the only light came from the carved pumpkin heads and the electric blue fire inside the Goblet.

They sat in silence, watching the flames flicker, until finally, the fire changed colour into red, and sparks began to fly from it. In the next moment, flames shot from the rim of the cup, carrying with them, high into the air, a charred scrap of paper. The school gasped as one as it fluttered down, and Dumbledore caught hold of it, and as he cleared his throat, the room hushed dramatically.

"The champion for Durmstrang will be Victor Krum."

Draco was unsurprised at this, and clapped his hands as Krum made his way up to the staff table and into the chamber behind it. He sat up straight, watching the blue flames of the Goblet as they turned red again, and another burst of sparks and flames propelled a small square of paper into the air again.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour."

It was the tart. She got to her feet, shaking a mane of silvery hair which would have made any Malfoy female jealous, from her shoulders as she made her way to the side chamber. The males students she passed on her short walk looked almost as gormless as Weasley on an average day, which was saying something. Draco supposed she was quite pretty, but not enough to warrant that kind of reaction.

The next few moments were intense. The very air seemed rigid with excitement, and Draco could sense the entire hall holding its breath as finally the tongues of flame announced the decision of who the Hogwarts champion would be.

"The Hogwarts champion," Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye as he unfolded a piece of parchment "will be … Cedric Diggory!"

There was a collective murmur of grumbles and sighs amongst the Gryffindors, but within a millisecond they were drowned out by the ferocious roar that exploded from the table beside them. Draco kept his face impassive but let out a tiny cheer inside.

Cedric Diggory was emerging from the screaming, stamping, cheering crowd of Hufflepuffs, a broad grin on his face which made Draco's heart flutter, and was making his way up to the chamber behind the staff table.

"Excellent," Dumbledore said finally, as the cheering finally died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-"

But Dumbledore had stopped speaking, and as Draco followed his gaze it was obvious what had distracted him.

The fire in the Goblet had turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. Flames shot into the air, carrying yet another piece of parchment.

Dumbledore caught the parchment, and read it. After a long pause, he looked up, locking eyes with Draco, who felt his heart contract.

"Harry Potter."

In the moments that followed, Draco could have heard a pin drop. Then an angry sort of muttering arose, starting among the Hufflepuffs, and then spreading, until he was surrounded.

His vision blurred.

This was it. He was going to die.

He felt Granger pushing him to his feet.

"I'm going to die." he whispered to her, though the muttering was louder and he was sure she couldn't have heard. It was just as well, because surely Harry Potter would have said something more sporting before engaging in an exciting tournament where lives would be risked.

Walking up through the tables to the staff table seemed to take an eternity, and he blindly followed McGonagall's directions to the room at the back of the high table.

He thankfully stumbled into the darker room, away from the staring eyes and accusative whisperings.

He saw the other champions up by the fireplace, and ducked into the shadows to think. Before he could do that however, the Tart whipped around, her eyes zeroing in on him.

"What is it?" she said "Do zey want us back in se hall?"

"Tais-toi." Draco said , sinking into the dark corner as he'd planned, ignoring the affronted expression on her face.

He'd barely stepped back, however, when Bagman breezed in and began to talk loudly, and Draco found himself reluctantly being dragged into the limelight.

He'd fought his way through the screaming, cheering Gryffindor crowd in the common room, hoping to find blessed silence and darkness in the dormitory. What'd he'd found, however, was a sulking Ron and a monumental argument. Not knowing how to handle it, he'd merely bleated 'but I didn't put my name in!' at Weasley, which didn't do the slightest bit of good, but he was too confused, tired and frightened to even attempt to think like Potter.

The next morning it was just as bad. There were pats on the back, hair ruffles, and more angry glares to be endured. He found Granger awaiting him outside the common room with some toast wrapped in a napkin.

"Hello." she said, holding up the toast "I brought you this…want to go for a walk?"

Anything had to be better than facing the school in the hall again, so Draco nodded, and followed her down to the entrance hall, where they walked straight past the great hall doors, and onto the grounds. It was freezing outside, but Draco found he didn't care. He accepted some toast from Hermione, and found himself staring at her for rather longer than what was polite. He couldn't see Pansy bothering with all this for him. She'd have been down in the hall with the rest, cheering - or jeering, depending on how long ago their latest fall-out had been.

"Are you okay?" Hermione said, noticing his stare, and he looked away.

"No." he answered truthfully, because he knew she wasn't just asking him that to fill an awkward silence.

"I know you didn't put your name in." she said "And don't listen to Ron. He's being silly."

"He's being an idiot." Draco said shortly "And I'm not going to bother with him. He's not worth it."

Hermione stopped and wheeled around, looking upset.

"Harry!" she said, grasping his arm "Ron's just upset! He always gets shunted to the side. I know its not your fault, but Ron's been upstaged by all his brothers, and then you, and I suppose this has just been one time too many. He's being an idiot, yes, but don't say he's not worth it! He's your best friend!"

"Didn't take much to turn him against me." Draco said darkly, not caring what Harry would think of him not even trying to repair their friendship.

"He'll come around!" Hermione said, "But promise me you won't just give up on him."

"Whatever." Draco said, mainly to shut her up.

They walked in silence for a moment.

"There was something else I meant to talk to you about," Granger said hesitantly, and Draco let her continue. "Harry," she paused, then looked him in the eye "are you gay?"

Oh no.

Well he supposed he couldn't really deny it. He was Potter now, after all. Potter was probably going to decide that he was going to 'grow' out of his gay 'phase', so Draco was hardly going to play straight for his reputation.

"What if I was?" he said slowly "Would that be a problem."

"Oh Harry of course not!" she exclaimed, turning to him, eyes shining "I'm so proud of you! I was so sure you were going to deny it - of course that's not what I wanted, it's so good to see someone just being themselves and not caring about what other people think - you know what people can be like. But that's not what it's like anymore is it? People are much more accepting in this day and age, especially in the wizarding world. You could be an icon, Harry-"

"No." Draco cut her off, hands raised "I'm not being your new SPEW project, this is my life, not a public affair! I won't be standing up for speeches about being bent in todays's magical society -"

"Sorry Harry." Hermione said, looking ashamed, though moments later there was a bright smile on her face. "I am proud of you though. Are you going to come out publicly? I suppose not." she considered his raised eyebrows "I noticed you weren't affected by Fleur Delacour-"

"Should I be? She's a slag." Draco muttered

"Language! But that's what I mean," Hermione continued "she's part Veela, no matter whether she's your type or not, if you're a straight male - but of course that's why -"

Draco listened to her rabbit on, taking another bite of his toast. How different life would be, he thought wistfully, if he'd been born into this. A life like this, where friends were - well, friendly. No matter how friendly people were in Slytherin, you couldn't trust them with personal secrets for any money.

Well he was sure the whole wizarding world would find out he was gay within months. This tournament was going to be headline news for a long time, and he'd seen how Harry's personal life had made it into the Prophet for more trivial reasons than an international competition.

He sighed. It was typical how Potter and his ridiculous theatrics had gotten him into this mess. Even when he wasn't himself, Harry had to get involved in everything even remotely dangerous, glorious and attention seeking, but this time, Draco would have to pay the price.

"-need to write to Sirius." Hermione was saying.

"What?" Draco asked

"He wouldn't want to find out about the Tournament from someone else." Hermione told him sternly. "It's important you tell him yourself. And I think you should tell him about your life choices too."

"Excuse me?"

"That you're gay." Hermione said impatiently "Harry, it'll mean a lot that you tell him yourself.."

"Right." Draco winced, knowing the general pureblood outlook on homosexuality wasn't positive. "I'll think about it."

Review please!


	10. 10

Chapter 10

Harry didn't get a chance to speak to Draco until several days after he was announced champion.

"You're holding the lead." Draco said tersely, as they approached the blast-ended skrewt together.

Hagrid, by some twist of fate, had paired up the fourth years with partners from another house in order to take the skrewts for a 'walk', and luckily Harry and Draco had ended up together.

"No. You hold the lead." Harry said stubbornly.

"I might look at it as an apology present." Draco said slyly

"Really?"

There was a pause as Draco wrestled with his desire for a real present and the need not to end up being dragged around the grounds by a giant lobster.

"Yes." he said heavily.

"Fine then." Harry said grumpily, picking up a length of leather, then cautiously approaching the skrewt.

"Where exactly are you going to fasten that?" Draco asked

"No idea." Harry replied, dropping his arms to his sides, frowning. "I don't fancy getting burnt, or bitten, or-"

"Whatever those suckers are for." Draco added, as Dean Thomas yelped nearby, clutching his arm.

"I think we can talk now," Harry said, glancing around to where Seamus was trying to pull Hagrid's attention from what appeared to be a fight amongst a pair of skrewts to his friend's burnt arm.

"Ooh Potter," Draco said, sneering "being a Slytherin has made you quite the rebel. Talking in class, well I never!"

"Shut up." Harry said, not rising to the bait. "We need to talk about how your name got into that cup. I think it could have been Moody."

"He's definitely a nasty character," Draco said sceptically, motioning for Harry to follow him as he edged out of view from Hagrid behind his hut "but why would Dumbledore hire someone so dodgy to protect you? Oh wait," he rolled his eyes "hiring dodgy characters is his speciality. I forgot."

"Well we don't know if Moody's even here to protect me." Harry said "And we don't know that Dumbledore knows I'm - well, _you _are in danger. What about Snape?"

"Sev wouldn't -" Draco began

"He wouldn't hurt _you_," Harry cut him off "but you know how much he hates me. And do you really think he's loyal to Dumbledore."

Draco frowned, hesitating.

"Exactly." Harry said triumphantly.

"We still can't rule Moody out though," Draco said grumpily "or anyone else."

"We should probably get back to the class," Harry said hesitantly after a pause where there were no longer panicked shouts coming from the other side of the hut.

"What am I going to do about this stupid tournament?" Draco blurted out suddenly, meeting Harry's eyes. "I'm no better than anyone else in defence against the dark arts!"

"That's not true," Harry said uncomfortably "you're just as good as me and Hermione. And you'll have us to help you, and Ron too."

"Ron hates me." Malfoy admitted "He won't believe that didn't put my name in the cup."

"He - he really thinks that?" Harry said, hurt.

"Yeah." Malfoy said glumly "Some friend you have."

Draco pushed open the wooden door hesitantly, pausing at the hubbub coming from inside. He'd just been called from his potions class for some kind of publicity photo shoot.

"Come in, come in!" someone called out, and Draco found the door handle being wrenched from his grasp as he stared up into the round, grinning face of Ludo Bagman.

"We're just doing the photo shoot now!" Bagman said cheerily, ushering him into the small classroom, where Diggory, Tart Delacour, and Krum were standing in front of an irritated looking camera man.

"Come come now!" the little man snapped, waving him over irritably, but Draco perked up. Photographs. That was something he _could _do.

For the next ten minutes, Draco alternated between smiling winningly into the lens like he thought Potter would, and alternated it with his best 'brooding hero' expression, whilst Diggory grinned awkwardly beside him, Delacour preened and posed, and Krum grunted and scowled. After that, the weighing of the wands commenced, and Draco's stomach dropped into his shoes like a stone.

"I - uh - need to get my wand." he said suddenly as Ollivander looked at him, mouth open as he was about to call Draco forward.

"You don't have it with you?" the old man frowned

"Forgot it." Draco said, making for the door, scowling at Delacour's derisive snort.

"Well I suppose we can do the others next, no matter!" Bagman said happily.

It was a full fifteen minutes before Draco returned, and when he did, no one looked very happy with him.

"What was the hold up?" Bagman said, rather less cheerily than before.

"Couldn't find it." Draco said unhelpfully, holding out the wand to Ollivander, who began a small speech on its properties.

In reality what had happened was that Draco had had to wait for Potions to end before he could get the holly wand from Harry. It had been clumsy, having to ask for a word in private with Pansy, Greg and Vincent right at Potter's side, but he couldn't run the risk of Ollivander finding out that Harry Potter was using, and was perfectly attuned to Draco Malfoy's wand.

The last part of the publicity meeting was an interview with Rita Skeeter, a _Prophet _reporter who Draco hadn't met before, but he knew her name and reputation through her dealings with his father.

"I'm not being interviewed in a cupboard." he said flatly, as Skeeter tried to beckon him into one. "We can do the interview here."

"Quite right!" came Dumbledore's voice from nowhere, and Draco's heart stilled in fear as he turned to lock eyes with the headmaster. As if the bright blue eyes were magnetic, he couldn't seem to look away. "Harry can do his interview in the classroom with the other champions." he smiled benignly at Draco, who dragged his eyes to the ground, and followed the headmaster back into the room.

"Right." Skeeter said uncomfortably, settling on a stool and glancing across the room where Dumbledore was speaking with Crouch. "Well then -" she gave him a bright, false smile "- let's begin!"

Draco sat up straight and crossed his legs, trying to get comfortable on the stool.

"How do you think your parents would feel if they knew you were competing in the Triwizard tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?"

"I - " Draco began, then stopped.

"Yes?" Skeeter prompted

"I don't do Quick-Quotes interviews." Draco said, frowning at the acid-green quill that was already scrawling across the parchment on Skeeter's lap.

"Oh come now Harry, there's no need to worry - hey!" Skeeter snatched the parchment back from Draco, who had turned it to read exactly what the quill had been writing.

"Whilst my face is undoubtedly charming," Draco said wryly "I resent you calling my scar disfiguring."

"Harry-" she started

"Listen, Skeeter," Draco snapped "I know how you operate. I'm warning you, if you edit my words you'll sorely regret it."

"Of course, of course!" the woman tittered, though her eyes hardened somewhat.

"I'm not sure how my parents would feel about this," Draco said "but I'm sure they would be worried, yes. No doubt they'd be angry too - after all I'm not of age so my name shouldn't have been put in the cup."

"Now now Harry, everyone loves a rebel-"

"Doubtless." Draco said coldly "But I didn't put my name in the cup, and if I read otherwise in the Prophet tomorrow morning-"

"Yes alright!" Rita snapped, then seemed to catch herself, smiling gracefully at Draco. "I notice you didn't mention whether your parents would be proud. Would you say that you think of yourself as a disappointment to them?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, if I live to see the end of the first task, hypothetically I'm sure my parents would be proud. However, they're _dead_," he said pointedly "shouldn't we be focussing on reality?"

"Is everything alright over here?" Dumbledore said pleasantly, having approached Draco from behind again.

"Quite." Draco said, standing up. "I think we're done."

"Excellent!" Dumbledore beamed, turning to address the rest of the room "If we're all done now, you may go back to your lessons - or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner."

Draco was no sooner out of the classroom before he was accompanied by Harry, who seemed to slip out of the shadows.

"Can I have my wand back?" Harry asked

"Wait until the bloody headmaster isn't watching, Potter!" Draco growled

"Oh." Harry said sheepishly, glancing back to where Dumbledore stood, and was alarmed to see him watching the pair with a thoughtful glance. "We have to be more careful." Harry whispered, half to himself, foreboding gathering in his chest.

Draco frowned, then glanced over his shoulder just before they rounded the corner. "He can't know. He's probably only just seen us together for the first time. Here." he passed over Harry's wand, and received his own in return.

"Still." Harry shuddered "It feels like…" he tailed off, feeling silly.

"What?"

"His eyes." Harry smiled, embarrassed "It feels like he can see right through you - read your mind."

For a moment, Harry could see the scornful expression forming on Draco's face, but then his eyes widened slightly, and his expression turned to one of horror.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, alarmed

"Dumbledore could be a legilimens!" Draco whispered, looking upset at the thought "I should've - I never-"

"Hang on - a what?" Harry asked, confused

"A mind reader."

"Dumbledore can read minds?" Harry said, stricken "He'll know - he must know about us!" Already, in his mind he was imagining all the incriminating things the headmaster must have seen in his head over the years.

But Draco was shaking his head "It needs eye contact. "

Harry's heart lifted. He didn't think he'd looked the headmaster in the eye this term.

"As long as you…" Draco tailed off, then closed his eyes in despair.

"You looked at him, didn't you?" Harry said flatly

"He didn't - I'm sure I would have felt - he would have said-" Draco babbled, looking upset.

Harry sighed. "Well, we can't know for sure. He'll probably call you to his office if he does suspect something though."

"Crap." Draco said, and stopped walking "Potter, you'll need to coach me on what to say. We should skip class-"

"He won't just whisk you off to his office," Harry said reasonably "we'll have enough time to go over everything."

"Oh we will, will we?" Draco asked, his voice rising, his green eyes flashing "Never mind its been _weeks and weeks_ and I still don't know a damn thing about your childhood - what am I supposed to do if someone asks me about a shared memory, what if-"

"We do need to meet up, that's true." Harry admitted, biting his lip "But calm down-"

"Calm _down!_" Draco spat, and for a moment Harry thought he was going to start shouting. Then he took a deep breath and fell against the wall, sliding down it until he was sitting on the ground.

"I can't handle this." Draco whispered, and Harry looked left and right before crouching down beside him. "I can't!" He said, as Harry opened his mouth. "All of this - I can't even bear to think about what the first task is going to be, never mind the second - or the third, if I'm still alive to see it - no -" he stopped Harry from talking, raising his hand. "People have _died_, in this tournament!"

"It's supposed to be safer." Harry said "And I'll help you, as much as I can-"

"Easy enough for you to say!" Draco snapped "Are you enjoying sitting on the sidelines for once!"

"No." Harry replied, trying to keep his voice calm and reassuring "I think I'm beginning to understand how Ron and Hermione must feel every year. I'm not sure which is worse. But try - _try _- not to worry." he looked Draco in the eye, who bit his lip and looked at the floor. "I know its hard - the stupid tournament on top of everything else, but unlike everyone else, there'll be two of us working on every task. I'll help as much as I can."

"As if Granger and Weasley wouldn't have helped you." Draco said miserably "Two of us? The others will have whole schools trying to help them. I'm not blind, Cedric is the Hogwarts favourite. They look at me like I'm some kind of _usurper_!"

"So, you might fail every task. So what?" Harry said bracingly, deciding to dispense will comforting lies. "No one will expect you to win, you're too young - "

"Of course they'll expect me to win!" Draco said emphatically, looking incredulous. "Have you forgotten? I'm Harry-Freaking-Potter! I conquer dark lords, and save people's lives, and -"

"So what!" Harry said sharply, hoping to knock him out of his diatribe, because he was starting to sound hysterical. "I can tell you, first hand that most of the stories you've probably heard are exaggerated. But even if they weren't, who cares? So you lose - do you really care about what people think?"

"Yes!" Draco snapped defiantly "I bloody well do, I have a reputation to uphold-"

"No you don't! Stop being ridiculous! I never bothered with looking good, and you don't have to keep trying on my behalf. And _your _reputation?" Harry laughed emptily "That's _my _business now."

Draco didn't answer, but stared silently at his shoes for a moment.

"Alright?" Harry said softly

Draco let out a long breath he'd been holding, blowing the hair from out of his eyes. "I suppose." he said grudgingly

"Come on then." Harry said, standing up, and Draco got to his feet.

"We're going to be late for lunch." Draco observed.

"Not my fault you picked a bad time for a tantrum." Harry quipped, as they began their walk down to the hall.

"Malfoys do not throw tantrums!" Draco snapped half-heartedly.

"'Course they do." Harry said "It's a skill every Malfoy has, I'm sure."

Draco merely shook his head, but Harry could see he was trying not to smile.

"You miss him!" Hermione said impatiently "And I _know _he misses you-"

"_Miss _him?" said Draco "I don't _miss _him!"

Draco rolled his eyes and tried to walk away, but Granger only scurried after him "Harry don't ignore me!"

They were in the Three Broomsticks, and Draco was more than looking forward to a nice cold Butterbeer after enduring Hermione's well meaning scolding for the entirety of their Hogsmeade trip.

"I _don't _miss Ron!" Draco said, scowling as he took a seat at a table "And if he misses me so bloody much, he can get a grip on reality and apologise - _I've _done nothing wrong!"

Hermione gave him a despairing look as she hung her cloak over the back of the chair opposite him. "I'll get us Butterbeers." she said, shaking her head "But don't think I'm letting go of this."

"Wouldn't dare to think that for a moment." Draco muttered at her retreating back.

"Alright, Harry?" boomed a loud voice, and Draco nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Er - hello." he said tentatively, turning to face Hagrid, who was beaming broadly.

"Are - are you alright?" he added nervously, as Hagrid rather obviously looked around, as if for eavesdroppers. Finally, apparently satisfied, he leant down to whisper in Draco's ear, who did his best not to flinch away.

"Meet me tonight at me cabin. Wear your Cloak."

Draco stared at him in bewilderment as straightening up, Hagrid said loudly "Well, nice to see yeh, Harry, but I'd best be goin' now." and he departed.

"What was that about?" Hermione said as she sat down, frowning after Hagrid's back.

Draco pulled his Butterbeer towards him and took a long, deep drink before relating the short conversation.

"I wonder what he's up to?" Hermione said, then sighed "He really shouldn't be encouraging you to go out after curfew. I'm not sure that you should go, Harry."

Draco let out a little sigh of relief. Spending time with the beast of a man was harrowing enough at times, without doing it after dark and in a one-to-one meeting. "I think you're right." he said, trying to sound rueful "It's probably something dangerous." He took another sip of Butterbeer.

"Really?" Hermione said "I didn't expect you to agree with me!" she actually sounded quite shocked, and Draco bit his lip. He had to be more careful! Of course Potter would never turn down an opportunity to wander around the grounds after dark breaking school rules!

"I just -" he searched for an excuse, but came up empty handed "I thought you might be right. You know," he carried on, conscious he was on the verge of babbling "what with the tournament, I've got enough on my plate without worrying that Hagrid's doing some illicit potion-making business in his outhouse."

"More like illicit cross-breeding." Hermione said seriously "It worries me, where he got those Skrewts from."

"I don't want to know." Draco replied, shivering.

"Remember Norbert," said Hermione "I hope he didn't get the Skrewts from anyone similar."

"No." Draco agreed, thinking _Who the hell is Norbert? _"Er-" he cast around for a change of subject "so, you want me to go and see Hagrid then?"

"No, I don't think it's a good idea." Hermione said firmly "But I _do _think that you should owl him about it. It could be important."

"Duck." Draco said, covering his face with is arm and turning away.

Hermione obeyed, using Draco's head for cover. "Skeeter." she hissed in disgust as Rita Skeeter and a bevy of followers made their way over to a table on the other side of the pub.

Draco scowled. More than anything, he wanted to confront the disgusting excuse for a reporter, but he didn't need her doing another report which could be worse than the last one.

He didn't think he'd ever been so humiliated in his life. Skeeter, true to her word, hadn't changed a single word he'd uttered in the interview, but it had still been excruciatingly embarrassing. And he still had people quoting it to him in the corridors.

"_I'm not sure how my parents would feel about this," Harry says shakily, a tear glistening in his startlingly green eyes "but I'm sure they would be worried, yes. No doubt they'd be angry too - " he looks up defiantly, lip quivering in vulnerability, but still unafraid to speak his mind against Dumbledore's controversial action of allowing young Harry to compete. "after all I'm not of age so my name shouldn't have been put in the cup." …_

"_Yes, if I live to see the end of the first task," Harry, aged 12, says, his voice quivering with fear "I'm sure my parents would be proud. However, they're dead," he says softly, wringing his hand "shouldn't we be focussing on reality?"_

_Harry is clearly uncomfortable about talking about his parents. I can only guess at the pain, turmoil and possibly mental disturbance behind those mesmerising green eyes…._

At that moment, Draco spotted Harry and perked up. He was making his way through through the crowd towards the bar, Pansy, Theo, Vincent, Greg and Blaise in tow. He was just thinking of an excuse to go over to the bar - Harry would know whether or not he should go to see Hagrid - when he heard Hermione giggle.

"What?" Draco turned to see Hermione shaking her head, a smile on her face.

"You and Malfoy?" she said, grinning.

Despite himself, he felt his cheeks warm up. "No! It's not - I just need to ask him something!"

"Right." Hermione said sceptically "You know, you never did explain to us what you were doing behind that tapestry."

"Talking." Draco said, through gritted teeth

"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow "So there's no feelings between you? Not that I approve anyway," she said, taking a sip of her Butterbeer "he's a nasty piece of work, no matter what he looks like."

Draco wanted to slap her. "We're not involved." he said, with what he hoped was an air of finality.

"But surely you fancy him?" Hermione persisted "I mean, it's since you've started talking to him that I started noticing…" she tailed off.

"What?" Draco snapped "Did I suddenly start prancing around like a dandy?"

She laughed. "No! Just, I noticed you _looking _at him more - and Cedric, you definitely fancy Cedric!" she leant forward eagerly just like Pansy when she was searching for an especially juicy piece of gossip.

Draco looked at her shiftily, considering how much it would hurt to just give in as opposed to enduring her relentless questions and knowing looks, but even that gave him away.

"I knew it!" Hermione squealed

"Shut up." he muttered, closing his eyes. When he opened them Hermione was beaming at him, and he couldn't resist a small smile in return. "He doesn't feel the same anyway." he said quietly.

"I think he might." she contradicted "He watches you all the time too."

"He does?" Draco said, thrilled.

"Yes. And you were _both _grinning away when you came out from that passage behind the tapestry - after all that _talking you were doing." she added slyly, and Draco scowled._

"_I was talking about Diggory."_

"_Hmmm." Hermione said._


	11. 11

Chapter 11

"I'm sorry sir, I really can't." Draco said firmly, as Harry tugged him away.

"Come on, you're going to be late!" Harry said, watching Draco's face with concern as it turned ever paler as he pulled him away from Professor Moody.

"Harry what does he want with me?" Draco asked, his fingers clenching so tightly on Harry's wrist that Harry thought it might snap off if he held any tighter.

"I don't know, but he looks annoyed." Harry said, feeling nervous himself. Over the last three days Moody had been ever persistent in trying to catch Draco on his own, but he'd kept to his promise of keeping Draco alive, and after the first time it had happened, he'd stuck closer to Draco than a wart plaster. The downside to this was his Slytherin 'friends' were constantly glaring at him, as was Ron. Hermione on the other hand seemed incredibly smug every time she saw them together.

"Are you going to explain why she's looking at us like that?" Harry had said hotly one day, tired of being an outsider to the goings on among his own friends, but Draco had only shrugged it off.

"Harry - what if he's trying to help me cheat?" Draco said, looking upset, and Harry was dragged back into the present. "What if Hagrid was too? I mean Hogwarts professors are going to want their own school to win-"

"You can't cheat." Harry said firmly

"Of course I bloody well can!" Draco flared up, letting go of Harry's wrist "I plan to stay _alive _thank you very much, and if cheating gets me there -"

"Keep your voice down!" Harry snapped, cuffing him in the arm "Now come on, you're almost there. Don't fall at the last hurdle."

"I should have followed Hagrid." Draco said, closing his eyes. "Potter, you have to help me."

"That's what I'm trying to do." Harry said, trying to sound calm and reassuring "You just need to stop panicking. If this task was something you could prepare for, they would have told you what it was. You need to just go with your instincts."

"No!" Draco said, lowering his voice as they neared the marquee in the grounds where the champions were to report to. "I mean if it looks like I'm going to fail, you need to help me!"

"How am I supposed to do that?!" Harry said

"Cheat!"

Harry massaged his forehead with his fingers. "Look Draco, I'll intervene if it looks like you're going to die, or get badly hurt, but I can't do that. They will have taken precautions against people helping, and if we get caught, people will _hate _you for the damage it'll do to Hogwarts' reputation."

"I don't care -" Draco began, opening his mouth to begin another rant, but Harry talked over him.

"Malfoy, I went through it in second year. Remember how everyone treated me when they thought I was the heir of Slytherin? Trust me, you don't want to go through that."

Draco remembered. It had been hilarious, but he would have paid any money not to have been in Potter's place that year.

They stopped outside the tent, now able to hear the noise of the crowd on the other side.

"Go." Harry said, giving Draco a little shove, but he resisted it.

"I don't want to die." Draco said, hearing a faint ringing in his ears. He turned to Harry for reassurance, but saw only worry reflected in his grey eyes,

"You'll be fine." Harry said, giving him a forced smile.

"Don't let me die." Draco said, squeezing his eyes shut. _Shit. I'm going to die._

He waited for more empty platitudes, but instead opened his eyes in shock as he felt the rough wool of Harry's school cardigan brush his cheek.

"You'll be fine." Harry said into his ear, squeezing his shoulders before releasing him from the hug. For a moment they looked uncertainly at each other, and it was almost awkward, until Harry said;

"Are you going to get in there or do I need to hug you again?"

"Harry! Good-oh!" said Bagman happily, looking around at him. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!"

Draco moved silently to stand beside Krum, choosing not to look at Bagman in his eye wateringly bright black and yellow robes.

"Well now you're all here - time to fill you in!" said Bagman brightly. "When the audience has assembled, I'm going to be offering each of you this bag" he waved a small purple silk bag at them "from which you will each select a small model of the thing you are about to face! There are different - er - varieties, you see. And I have to tell you something else too…ah, yes…your task is to _collect the golden egg_!"

Draco waited for more, mouth open slightly, brain whirring away. Collect a golden egg? Would this be a treasure hunt of sorts then? As Bagman turned away, his breath caught in his throat. Was that it then? Perhaps they would learn more once they'd selected their model…

He looked around to see how the other champions were faring. Cedric looked ill with nerves, but Krum and Dela-tart … the're faces were stone masks. Berating himself, Draco pulled on his old Malfoy mask of blank expression, finding it rather too ill-fitting and difficult to maintain for his liking. He'd been Potter for only a few months, and already he was losing his useful old tricks.

In no time at all, hundreds upon hundreds of pairs of feet could be heard passing the tent, their owners talking excitedly, laughing, joking…Draco took a breath and nearly choked on it. All those people, happy and excited, and he'd been cruelly separated from them all to be mauled, or maybe even slaughtered for their entertainment.

"Youngest first then?" Bagman's voice came suddenly, and Draco jumped, looking around and stepping back as he found Bagman's face close to his.

"Sir?" he said, confused, then looked down and saw the silk bag being held out to him. "Sorry," he garbled "I…" he tailed off, flushing as he felt the eyes of the other champions on him, and stuck his hand in the bag quickly so they wouldn't see that it was shaking.

He felt something nip one of his fingers, and hastily withdrew his hand, making sure to grab something rather spiky and squirming first. He didn't want to know what nasty kind of animal he had in his hand, but as he opened his fingers, he gasped in wonder despite himself.

Clinging to his fingers like a reptilian bat, was the most beautifully wrought toy dragon he had ever seen. It had gleaming black scales, bronze horns on its forehead, and a sinewy body with bronze spikes running down the length of its spine, it's silken wings half unfurled on its back as it climbed between Draco's thumb and palm.

It was a Hungarian Horntail, Draco knew, there was a whole chapter devoted to it in his _Book of Dragons _at home, that his mother had given him for his tenth birthday. As it twisted its neck around to look up at him Draco felt a grin tug at his lips as it opened it's fierce, snarling mouth and shot a small stream of smoke at him.

"…and the numbers refer to the order in which you have to take on the dragons, you see?"

"We have to kill the dragon?" Draco said in horror, unable to help himself.

"No Harry, weren't you listening?" Bagman said, frowning "Your task is to collect the golden egg, remember?"

Delacour snorted, and Draco looked away, red-faced. He'd been so wrapped up in his dragon he'd forgotten where they were, and it seemed he'd missed the others picking their dragons. He could see a silvery-blue short-snout in Fleur's elegant hands, and Krum had a fireball. Cedric was standing away from the others, but from the glimpse of bright green scales between his fingers, Draco figured he must have a welsh green.

He looked down at his Horntail. A number four hung neatly around its neck, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was last. He had time…

Suddenly a bolt of panic ran through him - he was wasting time playing with a toy dragon, whilst outside a real one awaited him! He had to _collect the golden egg_ - presumably then, he had to get past the dragon to get to it….his mind spun into action as he racked his brains. How did dragon wranglers subdue their dragons? As far as he could remember, it took several wizards casting stunners simultaneously, but obviously that option wasn't available to him.

Unbidden, his fathers' lessons prodded at him temptingly…if only dark magic wasn't illegal, he could cast a binding and subdue the dragon to his will, and there were several other dark curses that would take a dragon down temporarily….no! He couldn't waste time thinking about options that weren't open to him.

"Mr Potter?"

"What?" Draco snapped, irritated at Bagman for interrupting his thinking time.

"May I have a word?"

"If you're quick." he said, frowning, then shook his head as Bagman gestured towards the door. "I don't have time. I have to think up a plan."

"Bagman looked perturbed, and lower his voice "A breath of fresh air might give you some ideas."

Draco stared at him. It would be so easy to accept his offer…

"Sorry, no." he said, turning away. Draco knew dragons, and if he just had the time to think…he couldn't help thinking about how good it would feel to lord it over Potter because he'd completed a task on his own. If the task had been anything else, he would have taken the help, but dragons were his passion, and he'd wanted to see one in real life for so long…he remembered in first year how he'd snuck all the way down to Hagrid's hut, braving the dark grounds alone just for a blurred glimpse through a window of a baby dragon…and now he was going to see a real one up close! The problem was, he'd have to get past it unscathed, and on his own.

A whistle blew somewhere, and Draco's head shot up in alarm as Cedric left the tent with a face the colour of porridge, and the crowd roared.

"Shit!" he whispered to himself, closing his eyes.

_The Horntail's fire breathing range can be up to fifty feet…_

….so a shielding charm around his body wouldn't go amiss. He wondered how big the arena was. The best thing would be to avoid it opening its mouth to breath fire in the first place…he needed it to not see him as a threat…

…_spiked tail, used to club it's victims…_

He breathed out shakily. Yes, he really needed to avoid it seeing him as a threat. Maybe if he camouflaged himself…but surely a disillusionment charm was too easy? He wasn't sure he could do a disillusionment charm…he knew the theory, but -

The whistle blew, and Krum left the tent, his face stoic.

He didn't know a large amount of spells to enable sneaking around…but did he need to? Dragons had poor eyesight anyway, so surely even a poor disillusionment charm would work. It was the sense of smell he needed to watch for…why hadn't he ever come across a smell-masking spell? He knew one for air-freshening the toilet after Crabbe or Goyle had been in, and one for perfume, but freshening the air wouldn't hide his odour, and masking it with perfume wouldn't work either because it would still be a foreign smell to the dragon…

His eyes flew open as the answer occurred to him! Snape used a charm to contain potions explosions! Sometimes even a smell could be harmful enough to do damage, and if he cast _muffliato _on himself as well, he would be odourless, silent, and with his shielding charm he would deflect the worst burns, should the worst happen.

Draco didn't even hear the whistle blow this time, he only saw Fleur's back retreating towards the tent flap.

_Shit, shit, shit…_

If only he could be invisible, his plan would be complete…he racked his brains, but the noise of the crowd suddenly seemed much more invasive. He could barely think for the cheering and roaring, and then the sudden _oooh!s _and _aaah!s _as she did something dangerous, or impressive. How could he make himself invisible?

The whistle blew, and Draco froze as an idea occurred to him.

Camouflage. He couldn't do a real camouflage, didn't know any spells for it, but he'd accidentally transfigured objects half into animals, and vice versa, what if he tried to transfigure his skin into dirt?

"Mr Potter?"

No, no it wouldn't work. What would hold his blood and veins and things in if -

"Mr Potter!"

Draco looked in panic over to a med wizard who was gesturing impatiently towards the tent flap.

"Come on then! They're waiting!"

Three steps and he was at the entrance. He lifted the tent flap, and the sun hit him like a wave, and the roaring of the crowd, a wall of mottled colours above him crowded his vision.

Looking from side to side, he could see no dragon. Only sand, and rocks. He stepped outside.

The crowd was screaming so loudly, he almost couldn't retrieve Snape's explosion containing ward from his memory.

He raised his wand - then stopped short.

_Crap._

The spell only worked on a set space. Once he moved, the ward would not move with him.

"Fuck." he muttered, then wincing, he raised his wand again. "_Contine!" _

He felt the air ripple around him, and breathed a sigh of relief. So the dragon, wherever it was, wouldn't now be lured over by his tasty smell while he took time to think.

Did he dare to try a half completed disillusionment charm? He didn't think he had anything else to go with, so he tried to block out the crowd and, closing his eyes, rapped himself over the head with his wand, concentrating as hard as he could.

The feeling of cold slime crawling down his body told him it was working, but around his chest the effect started to diminish and he groaned, looking down.

His lower body was visible in patches. It was one of his better efforts, but he wasn't sure if it was good enough.

He cast a _muffliato_ on his feet, then wondered if he really dared step out of his smell wards. When was the last time the Horntail had been fed anyway?

But a spark of anticipation kindled inside him. He was about to see a real Horntail up close! Throwing caution to the wind, he stepped outside his ward, and began to make his way towards a sort of mountain of rocks that had been constructed at the far side of the arena.

He tried to keep close to bigger boulders, just in case he had to take cover, but he still couldn't see the Horntail.

He moved slowly, more reluctant to move between boulders as he drew close to the rock nest. Suddenly a gleaming horned head rose up from the rocks, yellow reptilian eyes blinking in the sunlight. The crowd roared.

_She smells me._ Draco thought, as he saw her - for, from the size of her head alone it could only be a _her_ - nostrils flaring.

All Draco could think to do was to cast _Tergeo_ on his clothes, and hope for the best. The dragon opened its mouth, and he could see a purple tongue, tasting the air.

His spell wasn't enough. He braced himself, before casting _Tergeo _again, this time on his skin, and bit his tongue as he felt every half-dead skin cell painfully ripped from his body.

Looking hopefully up at the Horntail, he waited, wondering if he had fooled it.

The great head lowered back into the nest, and he relaxed.

_Collect the golden egg._

It would be in the nest, where else? He'd have to lure the Horntail out…but how? He sure as hell wasn't about to use himself as bait…he needed a diversion. If he conjured raw meat…but that wouldn't work. If one could conjure up food out of thin air, no one in the world would want for food. He could transfigure a rock into an animal, if he knew how. He thought he might be able to manage a rabbit, but nothing bigger. But even if such a small animal drew the attention of the Horntail, it would still _smell _like rock.

As he thought, he hear the crowd begin to buzz and jeer.

_Great, _he thought bitterly.

If only he had some meat, he could multiply it.

Suddenly the answer occurred to him.

He pointed his wand at the nearest rock, and focussing his mind as much as he could, said "_Ferreverto!" _

The crowd burst into laughter and more jeering as a half-formed rabbit lopped forwards, dragging its lower half, still rock-shaped behind it.

"_Engorgio_!" he cast, ignoring them, and cast it again until the rabbit-thing was nearly as tall as his waist. He heard the crowd _oooh, _and turning around he saw that the Horntail was peeking its head over the rocks to see what the odd noise of movement that the rabbit-thing was making was.

_This had better work._

He pointed his wand at his hand, praying that this didn't work quite as well as it did on his potions ingredients. "_Secate!" _

Pain shot through his hand as a deep gash appear eared, and suddenly everything was a blur as a horrible howl echoed around the arena and blood spurted onto the ground. Draco could only see something black moving out of the corner of his eye as he swiped his hand along the back of the rabbit-thing, and stumbling away, pointed his wand at his hand again, said "_Curo_!", then cast _Tergeo _at himself again and his skin burned as the clothes-cleaning spell did its harsh work on his skin. For good measure, as he retreated behind the nearest rock, he cast an air freshening spell around him so that any remaining odour of blood around him would be vanished.

The ground shook, and there was a crash and a wave of heat, and in a panic, Draco shouted "_Defendo_!" expecting to be immolated in a plume of fire at any moment.

Behind his rock, he could no longer see the Horntail, but he could see the nest, and by the nasty crunching sound behind him he gathered that the dragon was discovering that the monster rabbit didn't taste as good as it smelled, and Draco knew he didn't have long.

Looking up at the nest, he doubted he'd make it in time without being seen…he could only hope that the dragon wranglers would jump in the moment his hands closed over that damn egg, or he's be fried.

Another loud crunch, and Draco, cursing himself, bolted out from behind the rock.

He didn't bother looking behind him, only praying his faulty disillusionment charm would confuse the dragon enough to give him a head start. He clambered up, throwing himself in between the cracks between the stones where he could. At one point the nearly screamed as his knee cracked against a rock, but he didn't dwell on the pain, but forced himself onward and upwards.

A crash sounded nearby, and Draco looked around wildly and, despite knowing the dragon couldn't see his head at least, found himself locking eyes with the creature. The Horntail's eyes narrowed, and Draco threw himself off the last rock, and fell down into the nest with a thump and his breath was knocked out of him, but he had landed on something gold.

There were three blood-splattered eggs in front of them, and one of them was slightly smaller and gold. Draco snatched it up, dimly registering that the blood was his own, and turning, screamed "_Defendo!" in the direction of the scrabbling which he knew was the dragon coming for him. Standing, he looked around in panic for an escape, and spied a gap between rocks three feet away from him. At that moment, the huge black head of the horntail reared above him, and Draco flung himself into the gap as as his world turned red._

_Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters, they belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any profit from this fic, it's purely for fun._


	12. 12

Chapter 12

Draco could hear the soft sound of breathing nearby. At first, he tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away so that he could slip back into the warm comfort of deep sleep. Once he had noticed it however, the soft whush of breath being pulled in, and then pushed out, so close to him was unnerving, and realising that he was awake enough to be thinking about it, reluctantly opened his eyes.

The ceiling above him was striped with pale moonlight. He tried to turn his head in the direction of the noisy breather.

He couldn't.

A quiver of unease ran down his spine.

"Hello?" he whispered, noticing with growing panicky that he could barely move his lips.

Nothing.

"Hello? Who's there? " he said more loudly, his voice cracking. The skin around his mouth felt unnaturally tight.

There was a sudden flurry of movement at his side, and a tousled head of platinum hair popped into his line of vision.

"Draco!" the person said, sounding pained with exhaustion, or possibly worry "You're awake!"

Draco's eyes widened as he took in the face of who he was talking to. _Someone's polyjuiced to look like me!_

"Who are you?" he whispered.

The person frowned in confusion. "It's me," he said uncertainly "Harry."

It all came rushing back to him, like an ice-cold bucket of water had been upturned on his head.

_The tournament…the dragon…_

"Harry!" he paused, overrun with too many questions "Did I get the egg? Where am I? Why can't I move?"

Harry gave him a strained smile. "Yeah. You got it…" he glanced at the bedside table, out of Draco's eye range, and he guessed the egg was sitting there. Draco automatically twitched to look over, and gasped as a shooting pain flashed over this neck.

"Careful - the burns…" he trailed of, looking guiltily at the floor.

"Burns?" Draco frowned, then it dawned on him as he remembered the rush of heat overtaking him. Wincing, he asked "So how bad are they, if I'm still in the hospital wing the night after?"

"Pretty bad." Harry said slowly "Full body, third degree burns. That's why you can't move - in case you crack your skin while it's still growing back. Pomfrey told us you'd be in here for the rest of the week."

"A week?" Draco groaned

Harry shrugged. "Now you're awake, she might change her mind. We weren't sure if you'd went into a coma." He looked at the floor, the guilty expression reasserting itself. "I - I thought you were going to die. I thought you _were _dead, when that fire ball hit you."

"So much for keeping me alive, Potter." Draco said dryly.

For a moment Harry looked upset, then he scowled "I _tried_! The minute I saw what was going to happen, I tried to stun the dragon, but they had wards up! I tried to get into the arena to get to you, but I couldn't!"

"You wouldn't have been able to stun a dragon alone," Draco said "or don't you think I would have done it?"

Harry shook his head. "How did you think of it? How did you know what to do? I would have panicked - suddenly, out of the blue faced with a dragon!"

"I've always liked dragons," Draco replied "I didn't really know what to do. I tried to think about it in the time before I went on, and I had half a plan. Say," he said, worried "Did the other Slytherins see you trying to fling yourself through the arena wards?"

Harry grinned sheepishly "No. I didn't sit near them. I didn't think I could handle being near people betting on you dying."

"Good." Draco relaxed "As long as anyone else who saw you doesn't tell them. What about Ron and Hermione?" he asked "Why aren't they at my sick bed?"

"They were." Harry said darkly "And they would be still, if I hadn't knocked over a few potions bottles outside Pomfrey's room so they had to leave before she found them.

"You don't sound too happy - they are _your _friends after all."

"Do you know how worried I was?" Harry said sharply "I couldn't come and see you until a couple of hours ago, and the rumour was that you were dead! If it wasn't or Ron and Hermione looking so relieved when they came out o the medi-tent earlier, I-"

"Alright, alright!" Draco said, rolling his eyes despite being internally pleased at Harry's concern "So," he said hopeully "what did the other champions think of my performance?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "_Cedric_ was in the medi-tent during your 'performance' with a burn, but I'm sure he was very impressed when he heard about it."

Draco grinned, unabashed. "A burn? Excellent. We have something in common then. How did the other champions subdue their dragons?"

Harry settled back to recount the tale.

…ooo000ooo…

_Harry,_

_How are you? Why didn't you tell me you'd managed to get mixed up in this tournament?! I had to find out from _The Prophet_, and you're lucky you didn't get a howler from me, because if I hadn't written to Molly Weasley first, I'd have believed all this rubbish that you entered yourself in it. It's something James would have done…_

_If you're going to illegally enter yourself into a competition, I expect to hear about it._

_But in any case, it seems like someone else entered you into it, and I hope you realise that it's unlikely they did it so that you could have a grand adventure._

_Still, that's no excuse not to have one!_

_Please write back Harry, I hope you haven't forgotten your old godfather._

_Snuffles_

…ooo000ooo…

Draco gritted his teeth, trying not to roll his eyes, and doing his best to look good natured.

It was a freezing cold day, and his skin felt taut and itchy enough without the cold wind slapping against it and making it tingle in pain. Pomfrey had only just allowed him to leave the hospital wing, and it was just his luck that the first class he had to attend was out of doors.

December had begun, bringing with it wind and sleet to Hogwarts, and he wasn't enjoying his Care of Magical Creatures lesson in the slightest. He wished he was back inside the thick walls of the castle, with its roaring fires. They had passed the Durmstrang ship on their way down to class, tossing on the uneasy waters of the lake, and he didn't want to think about what it must be like trying to sleep in _that_, never mind how frigid it must be inside the delicate walls of the Beauxbatons carriage.

"I'm not sure whether they hibernate or not," Hagrid bellowed above the wind, which was approaching gale-force strengths, and Draco tried to pay attention. Hagrid was standing in front of them in the pumpkin patch , which was beside the Skrewts' pen, with two tall stacks of crates behind him which looked as if they had been stuffed with old bedding from the Hufflepuff dorms if the colours were anything to go by.

"Thought we'd jus' try an' see if they fancied a kip," Hagrid continued "We'll jus' settle 'em down in these boxes…"

Draco tried not to sigh, but exchanged a gloomy glance with Potter who was standing beside Crabbe and Goyle. Once Hagrid had stopped talking, he moved over to take a closer look at the Skrewts and cringed.

"Oh dear." Hermione said quietly, biting her lip as she looked into the enclosure.

"'Oh dear' is right." Draco muttered, and Ron grunted in agreement. After a mumbled apology in the hospital wing a few nights ago, he and Ron were on talking terms again.

The Skrewts still resembled lobsters, but their armour was thick, grey and gleaming. Their six scuttling legs were powerful and heavy, and their suckers were quite possibly the most repulsive things Draco had ever seen. Their numbers had diminished substantially - clearly no amount of exercise had been enough to stop them from killing each other. This was perhaps for the best, Draco thought. _The less of these things in the world, the better._

Most of the class were staring dispiritedly at the padded boxes; no one seemed willing to go ahead and wrangle a Skrewt.

"Just lead 'em into their boxes!" Hagrid said encouragingly, and this time Draco did roll his eyes.

"How are we supposed to do that!" he snapped

"Come on Harry," Hermione said resignedly "we should lead by example."

_I hate being Harry Potter, _Draco thought mutinously as he reached to unlock the gate to the Skrewt pen.

Before long, the pumkin patch was littered with the smoking remains of wood and torn bedding and Skrewts were running rampage amongst the pumpkins. The Slytherins had long since fled for Hagrid's cabin, and Draco was thankful he didn't have to prompt Harry this time - he was too bust trying to corner a Skrewt with Ron by shooting red sparks out his wand as he approached it in a crouched position. Hermione was running anxiously after Hagrid, who had just tacked a Skrewt - probably crushing it in the endeavour. Looking back towards the cabin, he sneered at Harry who was pulling off the Malfoy smirk quite nicely through the glass at them.

"Well, well, well…this _does _look like fun."

Rita Skeeter was leaning on Hagrid's garden fence, looking in at the mayhem. She was wearing a thick magenta cloak with a furry purple collar today, and had a dragon skin handbag over her arm.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Draco snapped, then realised the mistake he'd made by looking away from the Skrewt for too long when it made a dash for freedom.

"Harry!" Ron groaned, dropping his wand "We almost had it!"

"Watch ou'!" Hagrid bellowed, launching himself forward on top of the escapee, crushing it; a blast of fire shot out of its end, withering the pumpkin plants nearby.

"Who're you?" Hagrid asked Rita Skeeter, as he slipped a loop of rope around the Skrewt's sting and tightened it.

"Thought Dumbledore said you weren' allowed inside the school anymore?" said Hagrid, frowning slightly as he got off the rather deflated looking Skrewt and started tugging it over to its fellows.

"Rita acted as though she hadn't heard what Hagrid had said.

"What are these fascinating creatures called? She asked, beaming more widely.

"I do believe," Draco said loudly as Hagrid opened his mouth "that Professor Hagrid mentioned that you're not permitted to be on school grounds."

"Harry!" Skeeter said, looking delighted, "Would you like to tell me about -"

"Aw come on' Harry," Hagrid said "I don' mind havin' a quick chat about' the Skrewts!"

"Skrewts you say?" Skeeter's eyes narrowed like a predator

"Ms Skeeter," Draco snapped, stepping in front of Hagrid "I highly resent having my words taken out of context. If you continue to bother me and my friends," he snarled menacingly "I'll be having a conversation with Albert Runcorn."

"Excuse me?" Rita scoffed, lowering her notebook.

"You know Mr Runcorn," Draco said conversationally "he owns over half the shares in _The Prophet_. And I have friends in high places who owe me favours."

Skeeter narrowed her eyes at him. "Just who would owe favours to a twelve year old?" she snapped

"I'm fourteen!" Draco snapped right back, before controlling himself as a nasty smirk settled on Skeeter's features. "And you'd be surprised what favours one can call when you're Harry Potter." he added with an insolent smile as she dropped her notebook back inside her handbag, snapping it shut with a scowl.

"This isn't the end of this!" She hissed at him, before pivoting and marching in the direction of the gates.

After a moment's silence, Draco felt eyes on him and turned to see a shocked looking Hermione and a red faced Ron.

"Harry…" Hermione said

"What?" Draco said uncomfortably "She's said enough crap about me! I don't need her starting on Hagrid!"

"Surely it wouldna' hurt -" Hagrid began

"Hagrid, that woman is poison, trust me," Draco said darkly "she'd twist every word you say. Especially with those Skrewts." He gave him a pointed look "I'd be surprised if you wouldn't be facing an inquiry from the Department of Control of Magical Creatures after she'd done a bit of digging around."

As he predicted, Hagrid's face reddened slightly. "Don' know what yer talkin' about." he grumbled, turning away.

"You didn't have to throw your name around like that!" Ron said suddenly, glaring at him.

_Oh for Merlin's sake, here we go!_ Draco was getting far too used to making himself not roll his eyes.

"I'd do anything to protect my friends." He said shortly, turning to follow Hagrid. There. That was an appropriately Harry Potter style melodramatic sappy comment. Out the corner of his eye he saw Ron's face clear slightly.

"How do you know Albert Runcorn, Harry?" Hermione said, looking like she was thinking far too hard for Draco's liking.

"I just knew he owned stakes in _The _Prophet. I don't know him." he bluffed. _But my fa- Lucius Malfoy does._

He marched swiftly after Hagrid, hoping Hermione would let it go.

_Dear son,_

_I hope you enjoy the éclairs I sent in your care package this week - I know they're your favourites. _

Harry smiled. He really had enjoyed them, but he'd taken the time to sneak Draco one under the desk in potions later that day.

_Your father tells me that there are plans for some kind of Christmas event at the school this year, and I was most disappointed as it would mean that you won't be available to come to France. _

Harry grinned in relief, then his smile faded as he read on.

_I know you'll be disappointed as I am - but not to worry. Even if you can't come with me to Paris, I insist on you spending some time - a week at least - at home with me. _

_Shall we say the week before Christmas? I know a little more about this event than you, but I won't spoil your surprise. Let's just say its most definitely a dress robes occasion - and I happen to have had a new set tailored for you!_

_Looking forward to Christmas,_

_Mother _

"Well shit." said Harry

…ooo000ooo…

"Draco!" Harry panted, breaking into a run when he spotted the blond heading up from the kitchens "Dra-"

He stopped, taking in the panic-filled expression on Draco's face.

"Wha-?"

"We need to talk." Draco said grimly, grabbing his arm "They know."

. . .

"Draco what-" Harry tried again after Draco had dragged him down three corridors and a flight of stairs.

"Sh!" Draco said, looking over his shoulder before tugging Harry into an empty room.

Glancing around at the dusty furniture pushed up against the walls, Harry said warily "Who knows what?"

Draco looked pained. "Ron and Hermione. They know I'm not Harry Potter."

…ooo000ooo…

"We were just in the kitchens. Hermione dragged us down there, said she had something to show me." Draco took a seat on a desk, then looked at Harry.

"Potter, what's your relationship with my old house elf?"

Harry looked at him in alarm. "I - well in second year - well it's a long story - but he tried to save my life from the heir of Slytherin and kept nearly killing me. He meant well though, and in the end I managed to trick your - I mean father - into throwing a sock at him and freeing him. We're sort of friends, I suppose."

Draco gaped at him.

"What's Dobby got to do with it anyway?" Harry said

Draco shook himself. "Right - well, Hermione dragged me down to the kitchens to see this stupid elf. And he knew who I was."

_Draco stared down at the small, knobbly creature._

"_Dobby." he said blankly._

_Dobby's eyes widened "Master Dr-"_

"_No!" Draco snapped, then stopped, remembering Ron and Hermione. He looked up. Ron was staring at him in surprise, Hermione was frowning._

"_Dobby, don't you remember Harry?"_

"_This is not the great Harry Potter!" Dobby squealed "This is Ma-"_

"_Silencio!" Draco aimed his wand at the elf, panicking._

_There was a moment of shocked silence before Weasley began to raise his wand - but by that time, Draco was already running._

"What do we do?" Draco asked, once he'd finished his story.

Harry stared blankly back.

"Harry?" Draco stood up "We need to think up a plan -"

"There's no plan," Harry said blankly "If they think someone's impersonating me, they'll have gone straight to Dumbledore, and then Sirius will find out -"

"We could catch up." Draco said, paling "If my parents find out- we could still _obliviate _them-"

"We can't _obliviate _my friends!" Harry said indignantly "We could talk to them - if we catch up…" he trailed off, realising it had been at least ten minutes since Draco had emerged from the kitchens. Ron and Hermione were probably already speaking to Dumbledore.

Draco realised it at the same time as Harry, and dropped his head, closing his eyes in despair. "I don't want to be you." he mumbled "I can't handle this crap. Dragons, and the Dark Lord and everything…."

"Maybe it's for the best." Harry tried to convince both of them "Maybe they can turn us back-"

"My father made it very clear there was no going back!" Draco snapped, and they fell into silence.

"We've got nothing to lose," Harry said finally "we might as well _try _to track down Ron and Hermione and sort this out."

They'd barely stepped out the classroom before Professor Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, and oddly, Professor Snape appeared in front of them.

Ron's face was hard with suspicion, and Hermione looked frightened.

"Mr Potter," Dumbledore said, locking eyes with Draco, his voice sharp "I think we should have a chat."

Read and Review! Tell me what you think J

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter or any of the other characters, they belong to JK Rowling. I am not making any profit from this fic, it's purely for fun.


	13. 13

Disclaimer – no I am not JK Rowling, so these characters do not belong to me – yada yada etc etc

I hope you all like this chapter, and sorry for the huge delay in posting. Uni has been difficult these past few weeks, but due to a timetable rearrangement I might actually have spare time for doing something other than sleeping. Anyway, back to Harry and Draco. Enjoy!

Chapter 13

Harry exchanged a grim look with Draco and turned to follow him.

"Ah-" Harry looked up to see Dumbledore looking surprised. "I was referring to Mr. Potter, only."

"He's - he's kind of involved, Sir." Draco said softly, staring at the floor.

"Why am I not surprised?" Ron sneered.

"Hush, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore said, frowning at Harry and then Draco. "Very well then. To my office."

Harry grimaced as Draco shot a terrified glance at him then lowered his eyes to the ground. He could practically feel the hostility radiating off Ron, so hate-filled was the glare he was bestowing on 'Malfoy'.

He supposed he couldn't blame him. Harry knew what sort of thoughts Ron and Hermione must have had passing through their minds. They probably thought the real Harry had been abducted and replaced by a Death Eater, with Malfoy as an accomplice.

The walk up to the Headmaster's office seemed to last a century, and by time they had reached the gargoyle and the revolving staircase, Harry had crescent shaped imprints on his arms from where his nails had been.

The Headmaster motioned for them to follow him in, and Harry and Draco immediately took up standing positions in front of a bookshelf by the wall, whilst Ron and Hermione positioned themselves opposite them, beside the Headmaster's desk.

Snape pulled the office door closed with a click.

"What have you done with Harry?!" Ron said immediately, shaking Hermione off and charging at Draco.

"Stop!" Harry said desperately just as Professor Snape conjured a Shield Charm to impede Ron's progress. "I'm Harry! It's me!"

An abrupt silence fell over the room. Ron came to a standstill midway between the two groups.

"What?" Hermione said, her eyes whizzing between Harry and Draco.

"If we can all calm down and take a seat," Dumbledore said, his eyes fixed on Harry, "I think I would like to hear this story myself."

"You're - you -" Ron scoffed.

"Mr. Weasley, if you do not sit down you can leave." Snape snapped, and Ron moved back and fell into a seat, glaring. Harry and Draco remained standing.

"Well, Mr-" Dumbledore paused as he spoke into the lull " - Potter?".

Harry took a breath.

"This summer … things started happening to me. My body was - changing. My hair was going lighter, my eyes changed colour - everything just felt different. At first I didn't care, because it wasn't that noticeable, but then it started to speed up. Then I got a letter from Lucius Malfoy."

Dumbledore, who had been watching Harry's face closely as he talked, sat up a little straighter and motioned for Harry to continue when he paused.

"I got one too." Draco said quietly. "The same things had been happening to me. My eyesight was going bad…I thought I was ill. When I got the letter, I thought it was a birthday message."

Both boys hesitated, glancing at each other. Neither wanted to reveal the contents of their letters to each other.

"What letter?" Hermione asked.

"My father," Draco said dully.

"Excuse me?" Ron butted in.

"Harry's parents are dead," Hermione said to no one in particular.

"Ha! I knew -!" Ron started triumphantly.

"Mr. Weasley, if I have to silence you once more you will leave this office!" Snape hissed.

There was a silence in the room for a moment until Dumbledore inclined his head towards Draco and he Draco started talking again.

"Lucius Malfoy. I am Draco Malfoy," the boy in Harry's body said, through gritted teeth. "We've been like this since the summer. My father said he was the one who switched our bodies and he'd Obliviated himself. He said I wasn't his real son, and he couldn't live with knowing he was bringing up someone else's child, a half-blood."

"He told me to find Draco and - er - take back my birth rite." Harry added. "He said - he said -"

"He'd swapped us as babies," Draco said, his voice chilly. "He was trying to protect his real son from one of the Dark Lord's rituals, but he went after Potter - me – first, anyway."

"It was _Draco _who killed Voldemort." Harry said, his voice breaking. "Lucius gave up, thinking he was dead, but by time he found out that Draco was alive and had been sent to live with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, he couldn't get to him - I mean me."

"You expect us to believe that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy have swapped bodies?" Snape said, dryly.

"We met at the platform," Draco said, hurriedly, "and then we talked on the train. We both wanted to keep it secret, so we swapped clothes and trunks-"

"I don't care if you believe me," Harry said to the floor, "but please don't tell Sirius, he'll hate me."

"Forget _Sirius_,"Draco snapped. "If my parents find out their son is Harry Potter I might as well be dead!"

There was a ringing silence in the office and Harry finally dared to look up, his eyes roving hungrily over Ron, Hermione and Professor Dumbledore for some kind of acceptance.

Hermione's mouth hung open slightly as her eyes darted from person to person, finally settling on the Headmaster.

"Professor Dumbledore, this isn't _true_, is it?"

"Of course it isn't." Ron's voice was sure, his jaw set. "Even if it was possible, Harry would never keep something like that from us!"

"I'm - I'm really sorry-" Harry mumbled. "I thought -"

"Shut it you - you - imposter!" Ron snarled. "As if I'd believe you!"

"Professor?" Hermione said faintly.

"You have to believe us!" Harry said, beginning to panic. He even glanced over at Snape for help, such was his desperation, but the Potions Master only continued to watch the scene play out with narrowed eyes and folded arms.

Draco could see the doubt in the faces of Potter's cronies, and Snape only gave him an impassive stare. Straightening himself up, he addressed Dumbledore.

"Headmaster, surely there's some way we can prove we're telling the truth. We'll consent to Veritaserum." Draco exchanged a glance with Harry, who nodded eagerly.

The Headmaster was watching the two of them carefully.

"I must admit," Dumbledore said slowly, his eyes fixed on Draco in Harry's body "that I am finding this story hard to believe. It's plain to me that you are not Harry and that Draco is not Mr. Malfoy. That you are each other is the other side of implausible. And yet. . ." He turned his gaze onto the real Harry, who stared into those bright blue eyes, trying to convey that _yes_, he _was _telling the truth.

_Please believe me!_

". . . yet I believe you." the Headmaster finished.

"WHAT!" Ron exclaimed, turning to the Headmaster in outrage as Harry and Draco let out identical sighs of relief. Hermione slumped against a bookshelf, looking at Harry - the real Harry - as if she had never seen him before.

"Harry. . ." she whispered. "You-"

"Headmaster," Snape said tightly, "as much as I have faith in your _infallible _perception, I trust you are going to do more than take their word for this ill-advised excuse for a teen soap opera?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said, suddenly brisk. "Boys, I must ask you to step forward." He got to his feet, raising his wand.

"What are you going to do?" Draco said, uneasily.

"I am going to check your magical signatures."

"But -" Harry said, exchanging a confused glance with Draco, "we've swapped bodies. Our magical signatures have swapped over, too. I get owls addressed to Draco, and he gets owls addressed to me."

"But then how did Dobby -?" Draco wondered aloud.

"I believe house-elf magic works differently than wizard magic." Dumbledore said, beckoning them forward again. "It is tightly wound to their duties and the master they belong to. I think Dobby would have recognized someone who was once his master, no matter what. But in any case, if what you say is true, then your magical signatures would not have changed. Your post would start being delivered to each other because your names had reverted to what they had been before."

"Oh." Harry said, feeling stupid. "But why do you want to check our-" he stopped, understanding.

"He doesn't believe us." Draco supplied, flatly.

"No. I believe you _think _you have swapped bodies." Dumbledore said, gazing down at them with a thoughtful expression. "Perhaps it is even true. But this test will allow me to confirm that you haven't been affected by some kind of enchantment to meddle with your thoughts, - as well as to make sure you're not simply other wizards altogetherwho just happen to be extremely skilled liars."

"All right then." Harry said, coming forward. Draco followed after some hesitation.

The Headmaster pressed his wand to Harry's forehead and muttered something musical sounding under his breath. For a moment, nothing happened, but then Harry saw a sort of silver mist gather around him - yet it was gone before he could have a good look.

"As I remember," Dumbledore said, looking Harry in the eye, carefully, "you _are_ Harry Potter."

Harry couldn't bear to look over at his friends and winced when he heard a muffled sob. _I lied to them…they'll never forgive me. _

"I am unable to detect any spells on your mind," Dumbledore said slowly after staring at Harry very hard.

"So . . . so does that mean this is real?" Ron's voice came, sounding strained.- Whether from anger or misery, it was hard to tell, but Harry knew which one he'd put his money on. "There's no way to turn them back?"

"I am not sure." Dumbledore said, still studying Harry, who was trying not to blush or fidget.

"Father said there was no point whatsoever in wasting time trying to change us back." Draco said.

"Of course he'd say that!" Hermione said scornfully. "He wouldn't want you to find a cure!"

"A cure?" Harry said as he stared at the floor, his voice sounding odd even to himself. "This is who I am!"

He could almost sense a scathing retort from Ron, but Snape spoke first.

"I may be able to think of a potion. Taking into account that there should be no enchantment on them any longer, if I treated the situation as if I were trying to create a permanent body swap from scratch-"

"That's Dark Magic!" Hermione said, her expression shocked.

"No shit." Draco muttered so only Harry could hear.

"It is worth thinking about in such a dire situation. - Not all Dark Magic can only be used for Dark purposes." Dumbledore said, and Hermione blushed. "Now, Mr. Malfoy, indeed you are Mr. Malfoy, it's your turn." He moved over to Draco, who swallowed nervously as the wand was pressed to his own forehead.

Harry watched, fascinated, as he had missed seeing his own magical signature.

Like Harry's, Draco's signature only showed for a moment, but Harry was sure he would never forget it. It floated in a mist around him, in a gold champagne, almost silvery white-coloured haze. Within it hovered things that Harry could only describe as complicated patterns in shades of muted blue, grey and once or twice a deep, rich gold. The patterns were almost invisible, and most of them were neat and ordered. They hovered, trembling and vibrating like someone had knitted clouds and water together with fresh air. There were curls and loops, swirls, and square, angular lines cutting through at odd, unexpected - yet delightful - places, all interwoven, but at the same time spiraling off into their own waves of motion.

It was a continuous expression of movement, of meaning - but somehow all the pieces moved against each other despite how they interlocked. It was Draco's magic, and although it was of many different kinds and moods, it was all _Draco_, and that's what made it a single entity despite all the inner conflictions.

When Dumbledore lowered his wand, the images disappeared abruptly, and Harry blinked rapidly while Dumbledore gave a pensive frown.

"Well?" Draco asked impatiently.

The Headmaster smiled slowly, raising a hand to stroke his beard as he made his way behind his desk.

"I'm very certain that you are Draco Malfoy. The question is - what to do next?"

Draco stared at the old man, emerald eyes narrowed. "Next?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, smiling at Harry and Draco cheerily, as if this were all a grand charade. "It does pose a puzzle now, doesn't it?"

"Excuse me Professor," Hermione said from behind Draco, "but what's going on?"

Dumbledore rummaged in his desk drawer for a moment, before coming up with a bag of Sherbet Lemons. He offered them around, to unanimous incredulous stares, before taking one himself and settling back into his seat.

"It seems," Dumbledore said, "that I am forced to concur that the boys are correct. I have Harry Potter in Draco Malfoy's body with Harry Potter's magical signature and Draco Malfoy in Harry Potter's body with Draco Malfoy's signature."

"Right," Harry said, confused. "So, like you said, we have only changed our names, not our magic."

"Well, yes." Dumbledore said, thoughtfully. "So, it seems that the situation with Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort has suddenly became rather worryingly unclear."

Silence reigned in the office for what seemed like the tenth time.

"Can it be fixed by any obvious means?" Snape spoke up suddenly from the shadows. "If," he added sourly, "this charade is to be believed, I have an idea of a potion - but the theory is rather contradictory…"

"It would depend. I take it that Dark Magic was used for the swap," Dumbledore said, frowning, and Harry and Draco nodded.

"Well then, we need to decide on action."

"Action in what way, precisely?" Draco said, his voice cold. "I thought the Dark Lord was dead?"

"If Voldemort were to turn out to be not so dead after all - and I suspect rather strongly that that is, in fact, the case - then I would have to dig out an old Prophecy. One that said Harry Potter would be the one to vanquish the Dark Lord - Lord Voldemort, that is."

"What?" Harry said, unnerved.

"The Prophecy did not specifically say it would be Potter," Snape cut in. "Albus, are you sure it's wise to speak of this now?" He gave a pointed glance at Ron and Hermione, then a hard stare at Draco and Harry.

"I am certain that Harry and Draco are telling the truth," Dumbledore said calmly, "and if that is so, then it only follows that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley would find out in mere moments after I had excused Harry - one or both of them - from my office."

"The Prophecy referred to a child 'born as the seventh month dies'. If the babies _were _switched over, that would make the child Harry Potter - who has, up until recently, been known as Draco Malfoy."

"I can't do it." Draco said, his voice rather high-pitched.

"Why - why didn't you tell me, sir?" Harry said, shaken. "What else did the Prophecy say?"

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley," Professor Dumbledore said, closing his eyes briefly. "I need you to leave my office so that I may speak with Harry and Draco in private."

...ooo000ooo…

Harry felt as if he was choking.

This could not be happening, yet Professor Dumbledore was gazing at them so sadly.

"You see…" the Headmaster said, "I have been training Harry - the one I thought was Harry Potter - for his meeting with Voldemort since his first year."

"What?" Draco said, and Harry's heart went cold very suddenly.

"Little tests," Dumbledore said softly. "All supervised, in case the worst should happen. This year was perhaps the most risky."

"What are you talking about?" Harry said, his voice cracking.

"I knew someone would try to put your name in for the Tournament," Dumbledore said, not meeting Harry's eye. Up until now, I have allowed events to roll on as if I didn't know about them - Professor Quirrel in your first year, the Basilisk in -"

"But people could have died!" Draco cut in, sounding horrified.

"No." Professor Dumbledore shook his head. "I knew what was roaming the school. And I placed precautions in every conceivable way. Thanks to a rather inventive potion of Professors Snape's, the eyes of every student were charmed with a thin layer of glass between them and the outside world, so that they would only be Petrified, as well as a charm to cause the urge to never look round corners without something in front of their eyes…"

"But - the risks -" Draco said, aghast.

"Ginny!" Harry breathed."You let all that happen to Ginny!"

"I didn't know _why_ the attacks were happening until it was too late. I had no idea a student had been possessed, but I thought it was an opportunity Harry needed for his skill and confidence to flourish."

"But - but -" Harry felt a black hole open up inside of him. He couldn't process thought. After all this time, he'd thought of Dumbledore as some kind of omniscient, but ultimately _good _person who he looked up to above all else. . .

"Let it suffice to say," Dumbledore said, suddenly stern, "that I knew that, no matter what, the time would come when Harry would have to face Lord Voldemort. And the safety of life in the Wizarding World as we know it aside, I knew who I would want to survive that battle. I had to prepare you in whatever way possible, Harry, to make sure you would live when this battle inevitably came your way."

"You could have told me the truth!" Harry choked.

"I planned to tell you in your fifth year." Dumbledore said.

Harry stared at the Headmaster, dead eyed.

"I made the decisions I thought I had to, Harry." Dumbledore said, meeting his gaze sadly. "I never claimed to be perfect. It is not fair to you, it never was, but I made the best choices I believe I could have, given what options I had. If there was a way to spare you from this, I would have taken that path."

"Well, I don't intend to listen to a phony prophecy, anyway." Draco asserted loftily, though his voice was shaking.

"Not listening to it won't make it cease to exist." Dumbledore sighed. "You could, actually, dodge it for quite some time, but in the end, it will come true, in one way or another."

"Well, if I defeat him in 'one way or another', then why bother training?" Draco countered.

"Because of the other side of the affair. The Prophecy specifically says 'neither can live whilst while the other survives'. If you don't kill him, it is inevitable that the opposite will happen."

To Draco's white face, Dumbledore said softly, "You are effectively trapped by destiny as I found out to my despair fourteen years ago."

"_Your _despair!" Harry spat suddenly. "_Your-"_

"I knew, Harry, that I would be the one burdened with having to break the news to you. It was my burden to grow to care for you, then break your heart, yet attempt to prevent you from turning into something worse than Lord Voldemort."

"Worse?" Draco asked.

"I am all too aware of the anger you feel right now, Harry. There's a chance that you could rebel against me so badly that you become your own Dark Lord, with time. I don't believe it of you - I don't want to - but I know only too well the risks of this sort of situation."

"You - you don't know me at all then!" Harry said, suddenly filled with hopelessness. Was this it? Was he to become the villain whilst Draco took his place? "I would never - you can't-"

Harry felt a cold hand on his arm and shut his mouth, staring fixedly at the floor.

"What are you going to do with us?" Draco sked. His voice was calm as he rested his hand on Harry's arm.

Dumbledore pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "As it is, there is one course which I think would be best," Dumbledore said so quietly that the two boys had to strain to hear, as if he were thinking alone. "It seems Draco must destroy Voldemort, yet it is Harry who I have been training. Therefore," he looked up and Harry looked away to avoid his eyes. "Harry, though I know it might seem that it's no longer your responsibility, I would ask that you help Draco to train, and when the time comes, for the two of you to face Voldemort together."

Harry heard Draco swallow and allowed himself a gruff bark of laughter.

"You - you just _ask _me, as if you haven't used me like a tool!" Harry choked

"Potter," Draco muttered, "let's just take the information and think about it later."

Harry stiffened. _He wants me to do it just because he's too scared to face Voldemort alone. _

_Of course he is! _A voice of reason spoke somewhere in the depths of his mind. _Who wouldn't be?_

"I'm so glad," Harry seethed, still staring at the floo, "that even though - all of this - has happened -" _I am not going to cry in front of them, _"that you still have a _use _for me."

Harry knocked Draco's hand away from him and walked to the door only to find that it was locked.

"Harry-" Draco said.

"Open the door," Harry said with forced calmness.

"Harry, I-" Dumbledore started.

"OPEN THE GOD-DAMNED MOTHER FUCKING DOOR!" Harry screamed so loudly that he almost had to hold in a cough afterwards, instead taking deep ragged breaths into the petrified silence of the room. For a moment, he thought he'd have to say it again, but he'd barely began to take another breath when Snape, rather than Dumbledore, twitched his wand and the door clicked.

He wrenched the door open and took the stairs at a run, barely hearing Dumbledore say something admonishing to Snape.

Please review if you liked this, because I'm likely to update sooner, and I want to reach the end of this fic and find out what happens as much as you do!

Big thanks to SunseticMonster for her beta work – I've learnt more about commas and full stops from her than from six years of high school English classes! Check out her fic Darkest Hour Before Dawn, because if you liked this you'll love it!


	14. 14

Harry stormed down to the dungeons, his surroundings a blur as he needlessly pushed past a few indignant bodies, his footsteps rattling down the dark, empty corridors until he reached the gloomy silence of the dungeons.

"Fucking shitty little -" Harry muttered as he neared the more familiar corridors close to Slytherin "fucking manipulative old bastard -"

He came to an abrupt halt in front of the common room entrance and stared at the blank stretch of wall. What was he going to do in there? He wanted to be alone, but then again he didn't. He just wanted something to keep his mind off things, but he couldn't take explaining any of this - as if I could, he snorted.

After a further long moment of indecision, he straightened himself, said "Medusa" and entered the room.

"Draco!" came the immediate hail from the corner where all the best seats were, closest to the fire.

He gave them all a tight nod, then continued on his way up to his room.

"Wait!" he heard Pansy's voice, and he paused as she ran after him

"Pansy, not now." he said, casting her a tired glance.

"But Drakey!" she pouted, tugging at his arm "Don't you want to spend time with us? It doesn't have to be boring if you don't want it to!" she gave him a leer, and Harry shuddered.

"Not now." he snapped, pushing her off.

"C'mon Drake," Blaise called over, giving him an easy smile "we're going to play some drinking games. Got ourselves half a bottle of Firewhisky, thanks to Nott here." he nudged the boy beside him.

Harry paused. Didn't he want to just forget?

_Alcohol is exactly what I'm looking for._

"Fine." he said shortly.

Harry was getting annoyed. He couldn't be bothered with the stupid card game Theo had started, and he'd only had two passes of the bottle so far and he'd been there ten minutes already, with Pansy stretched out on his lap, strategically positioned so that he could see down her shirt. Shuddering at the sight of a pert pink nibble, he looked away.

_Draco being gay is such a waste. He has this, all the time on display._

Harry picked up his cards, picked one arbitrarily and placed it on the table. The others made various disappointed or triumphant noises, each checking their own cards.

"Do I get a drink?" he asked harshly

"Naw," Theo said, "you've got me."

"And me." a seventh year spoke up.

"This game is shit." Harry spat bitterly.

"Want to do something else, Drakey baby?" Pansy simpered, tugging her shirt a little lower.

_A waste. Utter waste_.

"My turn." another older Slytherin said.

Suddenly a thought occurred to Harry, and he nearly choked.

"What's wrong?" Pansy said, sitting up, her breasts bulging. Harry stared at them.

_Draco is gay. I'm not._

So why was he so disgusted by the extremely available girl on his lap?

"Drakie?"

Without thinking any further, Harry grabbed Pansy rather roughly and pressed his mouth onto hers.

"Mmmph!"

There was a moment of surprised resistance, but then Pansy melted against him like a dream.

Her lips were stick with gloss which tasted like acidic plastic, but Harry ignored it and tried to figure out how this was done.

_Ah._

His lips and hers were now moving in soft rhythm. In the background, he heard his friends make a comment, followed by laughter, before they all moved to the next grouping of seats.

This wasn't so bad. If only her breasts weren't pressing against him like that.

He moved his hand up to touch her hair, intending to run his fingers through it - only to stop, suddenly disgruntled by the coarse curls that were thick with hair potions.

Pansy seemed unpleased by his suddenly stiff lips, and pushed herself against him harder.

_What is she trying to do?_ Harry thought wildly _We've only just started_ -

That thought was firmly pushed from his mind when the girl shoved her tongue into his momentarily open mouth, and he choked in surprise.

Pansy pulled back.

"What's wrong?" she said, her cheeks flushed and her lips shiny.

Harry stared back. _What's wrong with me?_

"Nothing." he said roughly, and pulled her face closer.

He let her push her tongue in his mouth again, and tried to imitate her, but her tongue was warm and slimy and tasted wrong. Just wrong. Kissing wasn't supposed to be like this.

_She's an ugly pug face, that's all._

He tried to picture features more pleasing, and at last settled into the kiss, feeling a thrill of desire as finally, he began to tingle in the right places.

Their mouths moved faster now, and the body on top of him moved against him even more insistently. Harry opened his eyes for a moment, half-lidded in pleasure.

Dull blue met his.

He stilled.

She pulled away.

Harry sat numbly, mouth open slightly and saliva threatening to drip.

"Potter?" Someone said

Harry jumped, twisting around so fast he almost cracked his neck.

"What the hell is he doing in here?" someone shouted

Draco was standing, staring at Harry with Pansy on top of him, his Gryffindor scarf trailing on the floor behind him, somehow pathetic.

His hair was its usual disarray, his cheeks red.

Harry opened his mouth, but Draco was already turning and walking back through the entrance.

"Wait!" he said, but his voice was so quiet it was almost silent, and Draco didn't hear.

"What did you want with him?" Pansy's voice echoed from somewhere "What did he want?"

Harry had seen Draco's eyes. They were emerald green, of course. And empty.

But so was Harry.

Who else, though? Who else had eyes like those Harry had been thinking of? They had swapped bodies now, but Harry didn't think of green eyes when he thought of Draco.

No one else had them.

No.

This was not happening. Not after everything else.

Harry could feel thoughts threatening. The memory of what he had went through less than an hour before was beginning to break through, and he couldn't deal with this on top of it.

"Draco?" Pansy said uncertainly, and Harry glared at her, even though he knew she couldn't really be mocking him by saying his name.

Pansy shrank away, but Harry pulled her back and forced his eyes onto the tops of her breasts, the nipple still visible if he leant forward slightly.

_I like that_, he told himself.

He tugged Pansy into a kiss again, running a hand up her top, and she gasped in surprised delight.

His hand met the impassable, hard edge of her bra, and he let his hand drop.

_I'm disappointed_, he told himself as he sighed with relief into Pansy's mouth.

He felt her hand on top of his, guiding it upwards.

Pansy was pushing Harry's hand into the top of her half unbuttoned shirt and he forced himself to cup the lump of flesh. Her nipple was poking into his hand.

Harry pushed her away, and half threw himself off the sofa.

"Draco?" he heard her call plaintively after him, as he jogged up the stairs.

…ooo000ooo…

Draco watched Harry.

He was ambling down the corridor with his eyes bleary and blond hair still ruffled from sleep, Draco's leather satchel slung over his shoulder lazily.  
He's probably been up all night with Pansy, he thought bitterly, then cleared it from his mind. He had to apologise to Harry, and he needed to do it right.

"Harry?" Draco said tentatively as the other boy meandered closer.

His head shot up immediately, and Draco noted that Harry could, after all, pull off a proper Malfoy sneer. Undeterred, he joined Harry's side.

"Keep away from me, you vile little shit!" Harry snarled, pushing past him roughly, but Draco immediately followed on, not allowing himself to be put off.

"Look, last night, I didn't mean to sound like I -" Draco cut himself off when Harry stopped short, shoulders heaving as he took a deep breath.

"Harry?" he said, stepping forward tentatively "I know what it sounded like, but I'm on your si-"

Harry had debated keeping his dignity and walking on, but instead he found words forcing their way out before he could even think about it.

"Don't say you're on my side!" he snapped, rounding on Draco, whose eyes widened behind his spectacles. "You're exactly where you want to be! Dumbledore thinks you're important! You're famous! The only downside is you've got a little task to do, but lucky you, you've got me to do that for you!"

"I don't-"

"And what have I got? Nothing! My friends were all I've ever had, and now they hate me! I never wanted fame, but at least I was famous for doing good! Now everyone thinks I'm a snotty little Death Eater in waiting, and I - I don't even have my parents!"

Draco shook his head urgently. "Harry, we're going to swap back! Snape's coming up with a potion, and you'll get it all back again-"

"No I won't!" Harry said loudly, his face suddenly becoming pained. Draco cringed, his eye passing over a gaggle of curious Hufflepuffs passing by.

"Yes, you will!" he said urgently at he threw them a glare, causing them to scuttle away. "You'll be back to yourself," he said, lowering his voice and hoping Harry would follow by example "and Granger and Weasley aren't so bad that they would just give up on you! They just need time."

"You don't understand." Harry said, deflating even more. "I need to go to class." He began to walk again, but Draco pursued him.

"So explain it to me!" he persisted "When Snape finishes his potion, you'll have your old life back, but you won't have to defeat the Dark Lord anymore!" he was unable to prevent his voice from growing bitter "I'll be doing the hard part for you."

"Oh yeah?" Harry snorted "What do you think Dumbledore means by 'training' you?"

Draco waited, not sure how to answer.

"Come on, think about it! I don't know a thing about defeating dark wizards, and I don't know about you but the only use I can think of for me is to take hexes for you!"

"I don't think that's what he meant," Draco tried to reason, despite being chilled at the thought. He'd always thought Dumbledore was a tad manipulative, but never towards Harry. "Dumbledore has always favoured you, he'd never-"

"He always favoured Harry Potter!" Harry replied, wishing his voice wouldn't crack like that. "I'm someone else who's basically been wasting his time - I've been an imposter!"

Draco winced at the truth of his words, but couldn't bring himself to confirm them. Harry's expression was heartbreaking as it was. "Dumbledore's not like that Harry," he said unconvincingly "even I know that-"

"Oh shut up!" Harry hissed. He stopped just in the doorway of the Transfiguration classroom "I thought I could rely on you not to give me empty platitudes! You're supposed to give me your usual Slytherin attitude, not come out with things Hermione would say." he huffed irritatedly "I'd be better off talking to Pansy!"

Draco immediately felt his cheeks flaring in that awful way only Potter's cheeks could.

"You know what?" he said abruptly "You go do that. You two are certainly friendly enough these days." And with that he turned his back on Harry and went to find a seat as far away from him as he could

Harry paused for a moment in front of his usual seat between Theo and Pansy, then walked to the opposite side of the room.

"What's he doing here?" Lavender whispered

"Bugger off Malfoy!" Seamus said stiffly

"Piss off!" Ron said loudly from behind Hermione as Harry approached the empty seat beside her. Hermione looked uncomfortable.

"Can I sit here?" Harry asked nervously "I haven't been able to talk to you."

"Whose fault is that?" she said stiffly, but her brown eyes softened slightly. "Fine."

Harry dumped his bag under the table, ignoring Ron's warning hiss.

"Ron, I can make my own decisions," Hermione muttered "we talked about this."

Ron's face grew red, and he threw Harry a hate-filled glare before kicking his chair back and moving to the table behind to work with Dean.

"Oh Ron!" Hermione scolded "Don't be so-"

"It's fine." Harry muttered as he sat down.

"Oh it is, is it?" Hemione said cattily "Well I'm glad someone is fine about this, because Ron and I certainly aren't."

Harry glanced nervously at the Gryffindors around him who weren't even trying to hide their attempts to eavesdrop and find out what Malfoy was talking to Hermione about.

"I am really sorry Hermione, I can't ever apologise enough. It's been -"

Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously. "You deceived us! Ron and I have been telling our secrets to Draco Malfoy, all year! You didn't warn us, and you didn't trust us enough to tell us that something was wrong! After all he's done to all three of us, you've been letting us treat him like a friend, while you chum up with those Slytherin creeps! No Harry, an apology just isn't enough."

Harry cringed. "I'll do anything, Hermione, I want to make it up to both of you. I've missed you so much. I was just afraid-"

"Afraid of what? Harry, no matter what your name is, you're still the same person! How could we let you go?"

"Sirius doesn't know yet," Harry said tensely "he'll hate me."

"He will not!" Hermione said indignantly "He's from a family with a similar reputation himself!"

"Yeah well," Harry said angrily "I hoped Dumbledore wouldn't drop me like a dirty sock either, but look at how that turned out!"

Hermione looked shocked. "What?"

"He's been using me." Harry dropped his voice to a whisper as McGonagall entered the classroom. "He admitted it, all this time, he's been honing me into a weapon to defeat Voldemort. Only there's a stupid prophecy that says only Harry Potter can defeat him - and he's been training the wrong person! So now he wants me to train Draco - as if I somehow know how to kill the most powerful dark wizard since Grindlewald! I'm going to play the trusty sidekick."

Hermione stared at him, pale faced.

"If that's true - and I can't believe - hang on!" she said indignantly "Don't try to change the subject! So you suspected Dumbledore would do this, or that Sirius would be angry - what about me and Ron? We would have kept it a secret, if you asked us to!"

Harry sighed. "To be honest, I don't know. During the summer, I didn't let myself think about what was happening to me. It was terrifying when I did. Then term started and as soon as I ran into Draco, he'd already decided to keep it all a secret, and it was too easy to just agree and keep it that way. I didn't want to deal with people's reaction to it. Although, I never analysed what I did. I just went with the flow, because it was easier."

"Mr Malfoy, if you've quite finished?" McGonagall said sharply, and Harry and Hermione sprang apart guiltily. The Professor's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the sight of the two of them together.

"Sorry Professor." Harry said, slipping into his practiced drawl easily enough. Hermione shifted uncomfortable when he did it though, and Harry tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she only stared uneasily back.

"I have something to say to you all before we begin." McGonagall said, and the pupils sat up in interest.

"The Yule Ball is approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialise with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth-years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish -"

Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle. Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she, too, fought not to giggle. They both looked over at Draco, who Harry could tell was struggling not to sneer. Harry did it for him, and the girls scowled when they noticed. Annoying girls. Harry thought in irritation, then flushed as Pansy very obviously blew him a kiss and gave him a lascivious look from across the room, although her eyes rested on Hermione for a bit and she frowned suspiciously.

"Dress robes will be worn," McGonagall continued "and the ball will start on 8 o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight, in the Great Hall. Now then -"

Professor McGonagall stared deliberately around the class. "The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to - er - let our hair down," she said in a disapproving voice, continuing over Lavender's giggles "but that does NOT mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behaviour we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if one of my students embarrasses the school in any way, and Professor Snape has asked me to tell the Slytherins in this class that this applies to him also." she stared imperiously around the class.

"Oh, and Mr Potter-" she said when her eyes landed on Draco "as the Hogwarts champion, you will be expected to lead the dance, so please ensure you find yourself a partner - quiet now!" she snapped as giggles burst out again "- and attend the dancing lessons I shall be holding for Gryffindors." Parvati squealed, and she and Lavender burst into giggles anew. Harry resisted the urge to throw his book bag at the pair of them.

"Times and venues for these optional lessons shall be arranged in due time." she added to the rest of the class "And although Professor Snape assures me that the majority of his house will not be in need of these lessons, I am holding them open to any Slytherins who may wish to attend, although Professors Sprout and Flitwick will also be holding lessons for their houses, and you may attend those instead if you prefer. Now then, today's lesson . . . "

"Great!" Harry moaned to Hermione "A bloody dance is all I need!"

"At least you won't need to find a partner!" Hermione pointed out "Although Pansy Parkinson seems eager."

Harry glanced up to see Pansy grinning at him, and bent his head hurriedly. "Oh no." he muttered "I'll have to learn to dance as well, or she'll be suspicious. I bet Malfoy can do ballroom dancing in his sleep."

"Well I wouldn't know." Hermione said briskly "But if worst comes to worst, I can show you."

"You can dance?" Harry said, surprised.

"Of course I can!" Hermione said, flushing "I might not be an expert, so I'll attend the classes, but I can do a few basic steps!"

"Sorry," Harry said, taken aback "thanks for doing this. I didn't mean to offend -"

"No, don't worry." Hermione sighed "I'm sorry. It's just - well, Ron and you have been treating me like a boy all these years, and if you treat me that way, there's no way Ron will ask me-" she tailed off, blushing. "Never mind. Anyway," she hurried on "you don't have to go with Pansy. You could ask someone else. Maybe Cho?"

This time Harry blushed. "I'd rather just not go," he muttered "it'd be less embarrassing. But if I do go, at least Pansy will be easy."

"Excuse me?" Hermione said indignantly

"I didn't mean it like that!" Harry said, flustered.

"No you didn't," Hermione agreed crossly "but you meant that you're not willing to go through any effort or embarrassment for the girl you like! What does that say about you!"

"Ugh, can we please change the subject." Harry winced

…ooo000ooo…

"There is no reverse of the original spell." Snape said coldly, as he conjured two hard-backed chairs for them in front of his desk. "But I can swap your bodies, at least temporarily. Polyjuice potion can last up to twelve hours, if brewed by an expert potions master such as I, though it would be safest to take the potion every ten hours, just to be safe. However that is not sufficient. A permanent body swap is required and I believe it can be achieved by manipulating the polyjuice potion with some Dark Magic and the inclusion of some … rare ingredients."

"Illegal, you mean." Draco muttered, and Snape ignored him.

"The potion will take some time, and I will need to alter it to make sure the dark magic from the original swap does not affect it - if indeed there is any residue. But at the end, you will each be in the bodies you are accustomed to. Until then, it is imperative you do not slip up in your act."

"Right." Draco said dully.

"Yes sir." Harry muttered.

"Are there no questions?" Snape said suspiciously as he raised a greasy eyebrow at them.

"Can we just take Polyjuice potion until the new potion is ready?" Harry asked hopefully.

Snape scowled "The headmaster believes that would be a bad idea, unless it is absolutely vital. If either of you revealed yourself the act would be discovered. He believes your imitation of each other is passable…and in any case the ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion are rare and expensive, and monitored by the ministry besides."

The boys remained sullenly silent for a moment, until Draco said finally.

"How long, exactly, will the permanent potion take to brew?"

"That would depend on the potion," Snape replied "once I have invented it, I will know for sure. But based merely on the ingredients I suspect I shall use, I would say two months at the very least, and five at the most. I will need to call on the two of you frequently to test it and to examine you."

"Invented it?" Harry said, aghast "I thought you said you definitely could turn us back!"

"And so I shall." Snape said, giving him an icy glare "I've never yet failed to create what I need, even if it takes some measure of time."

Harry slumped in his chair. There was still no guarantee then, that their situation could be reversed.

"So it will definitely be me doing the Second Task?" Draco said, his voice hopeful.

"Yes, Mr Malfoy." Snape said, then smirked. "Getting cold feet?"

"Stop it, Sev." Draco sighed, and Harry started. After all his other worries, he'd forgotten Draco explaining how close he was to Snape.

"That's Professoe Snape to you." Snape said sharply.

"Oh please," Draco rolled his eyes "it's still me. And Harry might as well call you Sev too. If we're both going to help you with the potion, we'll probably be spending a lot of time down here."

"I'd rather just use 'Professor'." Harry said hurriedly

"Indeed." Snape said, sending Draco a death glare "And I did not, for a moment, mean that I needed either of your help brewing this potion." his eyes lingered on Harry "Merlin forbid. I will only need to examine your magical signatures, and possibly take blood samples."

"We'll be down here anyway." Draco assured him, and Harry shot him an incredulous glance which was ignored. "I've missed our talks. And Harry's not so bad, once you get to know him."

Harry gaped. What the hell was Malfoy trying to do?

"I believe I will pass." Snape said dryly. "If there are no questions, you may take your esteemed Mr Potter with you, and leave my office."

Harry gratefully got up out of his chair.

"See you soon, Sev." Draco called, following Harry out the door.

"Wait up!" Draco hissed at Harry as he made to walk down to the Great Hall for lunch.

"What is it?" Harry said impatiently.

"We should really be talking to each other." Draco said quietly. "We're in this together, no matter what. And," he added quickly before Harry could talk over him "I know you hate me right now, but . . . It's just too hard to keep this up." he lowered his eyes to the floor. "It's been hard for me too, but I just want to help Sev make this potion and get things back to normal. Until that's done, this whole thing would be easier if I didn't have to fight you every step of the way."

Harry felt suddenly ashamed. "I don't - I don't hate you." he mumbled. "It's just . . ."

"I know," Draco said "It feels like every one is against you, and you probably think I was only trying to be on your side to use you."

"It's not even that," Harry tried to explain "I don't think you'd really use me, not now. But you don't understand!" he met Draco's eyes and tried to search him for comprehension.

"If you would just explain it to me, I might." Draco huffed

Harry took a breath. "Things are going to go back to how they were before, right?"

He paused, and Draco nodded uncertainly.

"Except I'll still know I'm Draco Malfoy really. I'll know Lily and James Potter aren't my parents. It'll all be an act, don't you see? But it'll be worse, because I'll know I'm lying this time!"

"You've got it wrong." Draco said firmly. "Look at what you've been doing, pretending to be me. Isn't that worse? Which is more of an act, pretending to be a Malfoy or a Potter? You are what your life has made you, and you've lived the life of a person called Harry. And you'll still be Harry, no matter what. If you found out your middle name was Charles instead of James, would it make a difference? Would you have a huge identity crisis? I don't think so. I know this is so much bigger, but in the end - and I can't believe I'm saying this - but what is blood? Isn't family just people you love? Does it matter who is related to you really? If the Potters weren't dead, you still would have been brought up their son. Do you think they would have kicked you out their house when they found out the truth? I somehow doubt they were the type to be that way. The only thing that will have changed is your real name - which you won't even be using - and your heritage. And if you kick up a fuss about heritage then you're a hypocrite."

Harry stared at him, surprised. "I've never tried to think of it like that before."

Draco gave him a grim smile "We have to tell ourselves something to get through this. And it's the truth anyway." He added hastily.

…ooo000ooo…

"Left two - no this way Harry!" Hermione said irritably for the hundredth time. She and Harry were practising the waltz in the Room of Requirement.

"Sorry!" Harry blustered, and stepped 'that' way.

"Ouch!"

"Sorry!"

"If you just-" she wrenched Harry to the side and he stumbled "Oh my!"

"Oh God - I'm sorry!" Harry's face became very warm as he removed his hand from her backside.

"It's alright Harry, just concerntrate, you can do this!" she said, her eyes gleaming with determination and her cheeks flushed.

Harry pulled himself free of her grasp, and Hermione let her hands fall to her sides.

"This isn't working." Harry said grimly

"Maybe if I made some notes and you read over them…" Hermione trailed off hopefully.

"No." Harry said firmly. This was the third session he'd had with Hermione, and he was very aware that he was making no progress whatsoever. He couldn't keep in time with the music, and he forgot his steps too easily. Worst of all, he'd concentrate so hard on where his feet were, he ended up ignoring any new instructions Hermione gave him, and this was a big problem because if he did go to the ball with Pansy, she'd probably expect him to be able to hold a conversation - or at least not fumble his moves every time she groped him - whilst dancing.

"Maybe I should ask Draco." Harry suggested "I mean he's been dancing since he could walk."

"Oh well," Hermione said, suddenly stiff "I'm sure _Draco_ will be a wonderful teacher."

"Don't, Hermione." Harry said tiredly "It's bad enough with Ron being like he is."

For Ron had not taken Harry's lessons with Hermione well at all. Not only was Harry a traitor in his eyes, but Harry knew Ron was having fits of jealousy over Hermione spending time with him.

"Sorry." Hermione apologised reluctantly "Maybe a different teaching style would help."

"Draco isn't that bad, you know." Harry offered tentatively "He's changed. He can actually be decent, once you get to know him."

Hermione suddenly looked angry. "Harry, he's been awful to us all for years! He's a bigoted lout, and no better than his father!"

"My father," Harry reminded her "But remember, you've been getting along with him fine all year."

"Only because he's pretending to be you!" Hermione exploded, looking furious at the reminder of Harry's treachery.

"Hermione-"

"No, look," Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose "Harry, let's not get into this. I don't want to fight."

Harry chewed his lip frustratedly. He wanted to say so much more, but he didn't want to drive Hermione away from him. She seemed to read his mind, and gave him a tight smile.

"Harry, I'm finding it hard to forgive you, let's just take things slowly."

Harry felt as though he'd been punched. She hasn't forgiven me?

"Right." he said brightly. "Well. Er. I'm going to go back to Slytherin. I have to study for the potions test still."

She gave him an artificial smile. "Yes. I could do with giving my notes a look over too."

They hovered awkwardly for a moment.

"Bye then." Hermione turned for the door.

"Bye." Harry muttered.

…ooo000ooo…

"…and Harry's taking Pansy." Draco chattered on, and Harry jumped to attention.

"What?"

"Sit still you wretched boy!" Snape hissed, and Harry shuddered.

"I was telling Sev about the ball." Draco frowned "Weren't you listening?"

"I was more concerned with that." Harry said, giving the device in Snape's hands a pointed glance.

"Will you give me a drop of blood or do I have to draw it myself?" Snape said impatiently

"How do you know I'm going with Pansy?" Harry asked suspiciously

"Potter!"

"Alright, alright!"

Harry took the proffered knife and made a small cut on his finger, which immediately throbbed and began gushing blood.

"My, my Potter, didn't know you were _that_ depressed." Draco remarked

"A prick would have sufficed!" Snape agreed, then added spitefully "Although if you hacked your hand off I would not stop you."

Harry ignored them both and held his finger over the odd little machine in Snape's hands. It looked as if it were made out of cogs and wheels from several clocks, and it had a little chimney that was cheerfully puffing pink smoke. He'd observed it in the headmaster's office before, and was most curious to see what it did. He let a drop of blood fall into the little pewter dish at the bottom of it, and waited eagerly.

"What's supposed to happen?" He asked after a moment, as pink smoke continued to issue from the little funnel. Normally he would never be so relaxed in the potions dungeon as to ask Snape questions so freely, but he and Draco had been visiting regularly in the last week and a half and he'd gotten used to the Potions Master. Indeed, it was hard to be frightened of the man, or upset by his jibes when Draco kept jumping in with a sarcastic dig or a witty remark right back at him as if he was no more intimidating or threatening that his childhood nanny.

"Nothing, hopefully." Snape replied.

They watched the smoke for a few moments longer.

"You didn't answer me about Pansy." Harry prompted Draco.

"Who else would you go with?" Draco replied "It would be a bit odd if you didn't go with your own girlfriend…although after you sat next to Hermione in Transfiguration you had everyone wondering for a bit. I just hope your father doesn't hear about it." Draco barely hesitated over the words, and Harry wondered if he had been practising calling Lucius 'your father' when he was alone.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Harry said indignantly.

"You seemed cosy enough the other night. What happened?" Draco said, his voice suddenly spiteful.

Harry looked over in confusion, but Draco wasn't looking at him.

"That was - that was nothing." he finished lamely. "But yeah, I think I'm going with her anyway. There's no one else to go with."

"There appears to be no residue from Dark Magic left." Snape said suddenly, and both boys turned to see pink smoke still chugging out of the machine. "You may leave. Thank Circe."

"What? Aren't you going to test Draco?" Harry said indigantly

"Not today." Snape said

"Oh." Harry spied Draco moving towards the door. "Hey, wait up."

"What do you want?" Draco said, looking surly as Harry caught up with him in the corridor.

The classroom door banged shut behind him, and Harry jumped.

"I always forget to close it." he said, pulling a face at the door. He turned back "What's wrong? Don't think I can't tell something's bothering you."

Draco rearranged his face and gave a tight smile. "Nothing."

"Right." Harry said suspiciously as they made their way up to the hall. "So who are you going to the ball with?"

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. Who do you want me to go with?"

Harry stared. "What? You can go with whoever you want." suddenly he felt he understood. "Oh, I get it. You're angry because you wanted me to ask you who I should go to the ball with. It's still your reputation, I suppose, isn't it."

Draco gritted his teeth. "No Harry, that's not it. Go to the ball with whoever you damn well please. I couldn't give a fuck if you went with Weasel."

Harry kept walking, confused. He was sure he was missing something.

"Look, just ignore me." Draco said suddenly "I have a headache. Let's forget this."

Harry obliged happily.

"Actually, there is something I wanted to ask you," he said as they neared the exit from the dungeons "Hermione's been teaching me to dance, and it's not really been working out."

Draco looked curious. "She can dance?"

Harry looked away guiltily. "Sort of. Probably not as well as she thinks she can, but at least she can dance a little. Anyway, like I said it's not working, so I was wondering if you could teach me instead?"

They had now reached the entrance hall, and Harry turned to see why Draco hadn't responded, and was surprised to see he was staring at Harry as if he'd just laid an egg.

"What?" Harry said uncomfortably "You don't have to, if you don't want."

"No - I can do that. It's fine." Draco's eyes suddenly slid to the floor and his cheeks began to redden. Harry frowned. Why does he keep acting so weird?

"If it's a problem-" Harry started, but Draco's head shot back up.

"No! No, it's fine. Look, I'll just er. . . I'll just go over and get some food. See you later." and Draco departed for the Gryffindor table, leaving Harry stymied behind him.


	15. 15

"Have you been working on the egg?" Harry asked quickly, all his words coming out in a rushed jumble.

Draco pursed his lips and stared back at him evenly, not moving his hands from where he held them outstretched.

"Look, you're going to need to touch me. Stop trying to change the subject and come here."

Harry cast a desperate glance around the Room of Requirement before giving up. Shoulders slumping, he stepped forward, gingerly placing one hand in Draco's, and allowing the other to hover in the air somewhere in the vicinity of his partner's hip.

Draco rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything, merely reaching back and forcing Harry's hand into contact with his body. Harry's face felt like it was on fire.

"So show me what Hermione taught you." Draco said, pointing his wand at an old gramophone, causing music to fill the room.

"Back two steps, and then-" Harry gabbled

"_Show_me." Draco said, rolling his eyes again.

Harry closed his mouth with a snap. _Right._

It wasn't so bad, dancing with Draco. After ten agonising minutes, Harry managed to calm down a bit and they were soon plodding along the dance floor nicely. He achieved this mainly by refusing to look Draco in the face, and it helped that Draco kept up a steady yet somewhat one sided conversation as they moved.

"-and the dratted thing only wails, not matter what I do. Longbottom reckons I'll have to endure the Cruciatus, the little twerp. Finnigan mentioned Banshees, but I can't quite picture-"

Harry settled into a nice shuffling movement as he lead Draco around in small circles, letting his voice fade into the background as he thought to himself about the upcoming Christmas Holidays.

It wasn't long now, until the dreaded week he'd be spending at the manor. And there wasn't much left to look forward to after that also, what with the upcoming Yule Ball. Or Yule _Balls_. For Narcissa had been sending Harry frequent updates on her plans for the Malfoy Yule Ball, and it was beginning to look horribly likely that it was going to be moved forward to the week before Christmas, just in time for Harry to attend before he went back to school. This meant that not only did he have to attempt to become at least a little acquainted with the Dark Magic he was supposed to know, should Lucius think to test him, but also that he should be a passably good dancer.

"Potter, are you even listening?"

Harry jumped. It had been so long since Draco had last called him that, that he stared bemusedly at him for a moment, before he realised he was still dancing, and with this realisation, he tripped over his own feet slightly, ripped his hands from Draco's and stumbled to a halt.

"So graceful." Draco said sarcastically, wiping his now free hands on his robes. Harry cringed, realising how sweaty his hands had been getting. "Well in any case, you seem to be able to remember the steps. But you really could do with learning to dance."

Harry sighed. "You not going to have me doing dips and fancy twirls, are you?"

"In time, yes, or you'll stick out like a sore thumb at my - _your_family's ball, if not the school ball. But for now, you need to put some feeling into this."

Harry sighed. "I really don't think I'm going to be able to do this."

Draco looked irritated, and grabbed Harry's hands and pulled him into place. "Well you have to. Now just pretend I'm someone you actually want to impress, and stop moving like an inferi. Imagine for a moment you _can_dance. In fact -" abruptly, he rearranged Harry's hands "you're the girl. I'm going to lead. All you have to do is try to move smoothly and gracefully, even if you don't know what you're doing."

Harry nodded doubtfully.

"Pretend you're Pansy or something. You know what she'll be like. Leaning into every movement, trying to seduce you. You must be able to picture her dancing with you - or someone you fancy."

"Okay?"

Harry nodded, blushing furiously.

"One - two - three…"

They started off moving just as stiffly as before while Harry got used to being led. Then Draco's hand on his back became more insistent, pressing at certain moments, and Harry tried to comply, eventually shutting his eyes and literally trying to pretend he was Pansy.

"Just don't laugh at me." He muttered, knowing his face was bright red, then he allowed himself to move a little more freely,

"That was a bit better." Draco said encouragingly as the music faded away, and Harry let out a relieved sigh.

"Don't think that that will pass at one of mother's parties though." he added sharply, and Harry's shoulders slumped.

...ooo000ooo...

"You want me to _what_?" Snape's eyes were glittering dangerously, and Harry was already backing away in the direction of the door.

"Oh come on Sev, it's not like you didn't know what I've been up to!" Draco wheedled, and Harry shuddered. He hoped he would never see that smarmy expression on his own face again.

"Expecting me to teach _Harry Potter_Dark Magic is quite different from me minding my own business concerning what Lucius Malfoy does in his own home!"

"Draco, let's go. I knew this was a bad idea." Harry muttered, but was promptly ignored.

"Sev-"

"No."

"Sev, you wouldn't be teaching him, only supervising us! I know there's no way you'd trust Harry not to make some kind of ridiculous mistake and end up cursing his ears of permanently or something-"

"Hey!" Harry protested

"And besides," Draco's voice was suddenly hurt "you're my godfather. If you knew I was being taught Dark Magic, you had more right than most to intervene!"

"I would have," Snape said dryly "If you had shown the slightest sign of being less that delighted to be learning such things when you deigned to contact me during the summer...oh yes," he raised an eyebrow sardonically "you _didn't_feel the need to send me an owl at all, did you?"

Draco didn't even pause to look abashed.

"At the very least you could let us practise in your rooms. If Dumbledore finds out-"

"So although I don't have to teach him illegal spells, I can at the very least implicate myself enough to ensure myself a cell in Azkaban?"

There was a silence in the dungeon as all three wizards seemed to realise the gravity of what the boys were planning to do.

"Sev," Draco said at last, his voice soft "you know we have to do this. Dumbledore won't even consider it, I know it. Instead, if he finds out how important Harry learning this is, he'll try to stop Harry from going to the Manor, and then everyone will know something is wrong. Even if Harry goes and doesn't bother learning these spells," he waved a piece of parchment at Snape "father will have reason for suspicion, and if he starts looking, I know he'll find out the truth. And..." he paused, looking uncertain "well, if Harry's supposed to be a part of killing the Dark Lord...shouldn't he at least know how to fight like the enemy?"

"I'm not going to sink to their level!" Harry said, indignant, and a little offended.

"At the very least," Draco carried on talking as if Harry hadn't interrupted "you have to consider how anyone could possibly protect themselves from Dark curses when one doesn't know what they are, or how they work."

Professor Snape closed his eyes, leaning heavily on his desk.

"Lily would have a heart attack if she knew."

Harry frowned. "What -?"

"Too late." Draco interrupted "Remember, _I'm_Harry Potter." He smirked "I'm already nicely corrupted. Just think of it as returning things to rights. After all, what sort of Malfoy would Harry be if he can't do a decent bone burning curse?"

...ooo000ooo...

"This time," Draco said, tugging Harry into the centre of the room "I'm going to cast a cheering charm on you. You need to be more relaxed when you're dancing. And for Merlin's sake, try to be _sensual_."

Harry froze, and Draco's eyes narrowed. "Stop blushing Potter, I'm not going to molest you!"

"I didn't think-!"

"Well then stop trying to prove whatever it is you're trying to prove. I think you're very manly, if that puts your mind at ease," Draco snapped "now stop being an idiot."

The music started, and Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as once again Draco pulled him embarrassingly close.

_I_'m _with Pansy._

It was the best thing Harry could have pictured: Pansy's face. He didn't care what Pansy thought of him, and he felt reasonably comfortable with the idea of her body up against his because he'd already experienced it, and more to the point, it didn't _affect_ him in …certain ways.

Draco wasn't talking, and the music wasn't so old fashioned and jarring as last time, or the times before that. Harry finally felt himself relaxing and slipping into the flow of the music.

They'd been meeting up every night now, trying to teach Harry how to dance like a pureblood, to the point where Harry was muttering _one - two - three_in his sleep. He now knew two dances, one a standard waltz, and the other a more elaborate version, and along with his nightly lessons with Draco, he practised for an hour before bed in an empty classroom near the Slytherin dungeon.

After a surprisingly short time, the music faded away, and Draco let go of him. Harry stepped gratefully away and took a seat on a chair that the room of requirement had thoughtfully conjured up.

"You're not bad." Draco said, turning to turn off the gramophone. "But it's not going to cut it at the family ball."

Harry huffed "We've been practising every night, I _can_'t get any better!" Not to mention that Draco's words ignited a knot of resentment inside him. Whatever Draco said, Harry thought that he had been doing extraordinarily well. He almost never made a mistake when he danced, and besides that he thought that although he would never be a world class dancer, he'd been putting just more swaying and twisting into his moves than any straight man would deem appropriate, and yet it _still_wasn't good enough.

Draco scowled. "You don't understand." he began to pace "At the Yule Ball, you could probably escape with dancing once or twice. You could even pretend you're drunk, and that would excuse your awful dancing-"

Harry felt anger flare up inside him.

"And don't look at me like that!" Draco turned on him "You can't even begin to understand! Everyone, _everyone_at the Malfoy ball will be spinning and twirling around the dance floor faster than you've ever managed, and there won't be a toe out of place!"

"I could pretend to be ill - or drunk -"

"If you care about being a Malfoy even the tiniest bit," Draco snarled "you'll do no such thing! Mother and Father will never forgive you if you embarrass them! Your dance partner is French aristocracy for Merlin's sake, and Mother wants her to be your betrothed!"

"You seem to be forgetting that I'm not you," Harry snapped "I won't be betrothed to _anyone_ I don't want to!"

"It doesn't matter what you want!" Draco's voice rose shrilly, and it hung in the air for an embarrassing moment after which Draco looked down at the ground, cheeks red.

"Sorry." he said finally

Harry forced himself to calm down. "It's fine." he said shortly

"It's just-"

"I know." Harry said quietly "If I'm a Malfoy I'm going to have to get used to my life being planned out for me."

"At least until the Dark Lord is dead." Draco agreed, looking up at him with a wry smile "Then, all you'll have to worry about is getting disowned. And," he added "if you're nice to me, I might donate a small fraction of the Potter family fortune to your pitiful cause if that happens."

"You're too kind, Potter." Harry said, not quite able to achieve the dry tone he'd hoped for.

"No problem." Draco said, his mouth twitching.

...ooo000ooo...

"You do realise," Snape said coldly "that casting any _one_ of these spells whilst in Hogwarts would warrant instant expulsion?"

Harry swallowed.

"That said," the professor raised an eyebrow "these could be worse. Much worse." he cast a questioning glance at Draco "They should be. Care to elucidate me on why that is?"

Draco answered without meeting Snape's eyes. "I wasn't very good at the…worse kinds of spells. Father wanted me to get a grounding in the basics."

"Really." Snape got to his feet "Lack of skill, or lack of stomach, I wonder?"

Draco's cheeks were tinged with pink.

"Come Potter," Snape gestured to the centre of the room which had been cleared of desks "I take it you've practised the theory?" He waved his wand and a nearby cauldron turned into a rabbit.

Harry nodded jerkily.

"Then…start from the top of Draco's list, I think."

Harry moved so that he was opposite the rabbit, and raised his shaking wand. He aimed, and then closed his eyes.

"_Excorio_!"

Harry's eyes flew open at the startled yelp and flurry of movement. His eyes flitted around the room, until they rested on the rabbit, who was happily gnawing at a chair leg. However, Draco looked ruffled and upset, and Snape furious.

"_Look_ at what you're doing, Potter!" Snape hissed from the edge of the room "Aside from what Lucius would do to you if he saw you cringing from hurting a fluffy animal, you nearly flayed Draco alive!"

"S-sorry." Harry mumbled, turning back to the task at hand.

"The animal's life is in your hands," Snape's voice was low and melodic. "Do it the honour of acknowledging its sacrifice."

Harry's wand was shaking. "_Excorio_!" he whispered.

There was a wet sort of splattering sound.

"_Scourgify_!" Snape intoned emotionlessly, then flicked his wand.

Another rabbit appeared in its place.

"Next spell."

Harry locked eyes with Draco for one moment in which he was offered a sympathetic wince before he made himself turn back to the task at hand.

"_Decollo_!"

…ooo000ooo…

The road that lead to Harry's doom was rocky and pitted, and if he let his attention wander for too long, or allowed himself to sink into the sullen reverie he had been in since breakfast, he would suddenly stumble and be jerked back into reality like an unsuspecting grindylow caught on a fishing line.

The day had started off in a foul manner, with Harry waking from a turbulent night of tossing and turning, feeling as if he may well have spent the night running laps of the quidditch pitch rather than in a warm, soft bed.

He'd left Slytherin to find Draco pacing outside the portrait hole, seemingly having thrown all pretence to the wind in his nervousness. It must have been sheer luck that he hadn't been cursed by any passing Slytherins wondering why a Gryffindor was hanging around outside their common room. Harry had expected to be subjected to a litany of _Things a Malfoy Does Not Do_, just as he had endured the previous night (which had probably contributed to his sleepless night of worry), but instead Draco had given him a terse nod, before biting his lip and accompanying him to the Great Hall for breakfast. Thankfully only two Ravenclaws crossed their path on the way there and they were too involved in their own conversation to give the odd pair a second glance.

Draco had been in a bad mood for the past day, and Harry was thankful that he didn't seem in the mood for talking, but at the same time he couldn't help feeling resentful at the hopeless glances Draco kept favouring him with. He wasn't _that_bad an actor, his dancing was passable at worst, even by pureblood standards, and while he might not have _mastered_the list of curses precisely, he could certainly perform all of them after three tries at worst and he had even controlled his winces at the results.

Breakfast had been an even worse affair. His house members had noticed his dark mood and left him out of their conversations. Harry would have been thankful but it only meant that he was able to notice exactly how many times Ron glared at him from across the room, and it put him quite off his food.

And now here he was, making his way down to the carriages with Theodore Nott at his side, the only other Slytherin in his group of friends who was also returning home. Once they had boarded the Hogwarts express, Harry would enjoy yet another long stretch of hours in which there would be nothing better to do than to sleep, and he was sure he would have just as much success in that as he had last night. Draco had said he would make the journey to London with him and just stay on the train until it returned to Hogwarts, but he had not made it past Professor McGonagall who had pulled him up as he'd neared the school gates and expressly forbade him to continue without permission from the headmaster or the Dursleys - she of course did not know about the body-swap. Harry couldn't believe neither of them had thought that of course _Harry Potter_ would be missed leaving the school unexpectedly. But then both of them had been preoccupied with Harry's upcoming task.

"Not looking forward to seeing the parents?" Theo offered as a hopeful conversation starter.

"You have no idea." Harry growled, picking up his pace and leaving him behind.

…ooo000ooo…

"How did you get here?" were Harry's first words when Draco appeared in the carriage door opening.

"Ran up to the school for the invisibility cloak." Draco said briskly, closing the door behind him, and falling into the seat opposite him.

"You cut it pretty fine." commented Harry, as the train shuddered into motion.

"Honeydukes tunnel." Draco said, reaching into his pocket and flashing a corner of old, worn parchment at him, one which Harry would recognise anywhere.

Harry grinned "Finally found an excuse to use it, have you?"

Draco gave a half-hearted smile and then sunk further into the padded seat.

Harry watched him for a while, smile fading. "You know, it might turn out okay."

Draco turned to the window "And if it's not? Chances are, you'll be ignored the whole time, but…"

"You don't think so?" Harry finished, hope fading fast.

Draco gave a grim smile, not moving his eyes from the rolling countryside.

The first hour of the journey passed in silence, but the arrival of the food trolley seemed to wake Draco from his miserable stupor, and he got to his feet to purchase a pie and a bottle of pumpkin juice.

"What are you so upset about?" Harry ventured, now that his companion was showing signs of life.

Draco chewed and swallowed, lowering his piece of pie. He took his time, and finally answered. "I suppose I've never really had to worry too much about…" he tailed off, but then began again, his voice sounding more forced "…about people knowing about me. What my life's like, I mean." he clarified. "I was - brought up to keep our family's secrets…" Draco looked as if he had to force out every word. Harry knew how Draco hated to sound like an emotional Hufflepuff. "It's a hard thing to let go of. Although," he bit his lip "that's not it either." He looked up, meeting Harry's eyes "I haven't got great parents. They're not good people. " his jaw twitched, and he looked at the floor "Well, I suppose mother's not bad, but father…"

"You're embarrassed." Harry concluded.

"Ashamed." Draco corrected, looking away. "And worried." he added.

"About little old me?" Harry tried to inject some light-heartedness into the conversation, and it worked.

"About little old you." Draco smiled a little, sitting up. "Your dancing will never fool the witches."

Harry laughed. "How were Ron and Hermione, before we left?" he changed the subject, and Draco looked relieved "Ron looked pretty pissed at breakfast…"

Draco scowled. "Granger is practically ignoring me now that she's found out I'm not the real deal. And Weasley…" his expression turned nasty "what a pathetic excuse of a wizard." his voice drifted into mumbling insults, including the expression _muggle-loving -_and Harry frowned at the inclusion of terms which he hadn't heard from Draco since they first started talking this year.

Harry supposed the wiser course would have been to steer the conversation onto the topic of quidditch or something different, but instead he started eating the chocolate frogs he'd bought from the trolley and decided to let Draco stew in silence while he inspected his new chocolate frog cards and went over dance steps and curses in his head.

It was the wrong thing to do.

Harry grew tenser and tenser as they neared London and anticipated whatever Mr and Mrs Malfoy were likely to inflict on him, and Draco punctuated the silence by outbursts about Ron, who had clearly offended him deeply by his turn-about in affection. This show of jealousy put Harry in an even worse mood.

Finally Harry gritted his teeth and spoke up. "If you make one more crack about the Weasleys Draco, I swear-"

"Oh can it Potter, I'm entitled to my own opinion." Draco snapped.

"Keep it to your bloody self then." Harry muttered under his breath, and Draco pretended not to hear him. They fell into nervous silence again. Harry kept thinking about Draco's words and felt a growing irritation and anger, no doubt spurred by his nerves looking for something else to focus on.

"You know," he burst out suddenly "it wouldn't hurt for you to try and see things from Ron's family's point of view for once! Put yourself in their shoes! You're so - vindictive all the time, but I bet you've never even thought about what it must be like to have no money!"

Suddenly it was if things had reverted back to first year and they were bickering as if the past four months had not even happened.

Draco gave him a cold stare. "I don't see him doing that for me."

Harry spluttered "Why should he! _He_ doesn't make fun of you for _having_ money!"

"He would if it made any sense to do such a thing." came the petulant reply

"You're just being ridiculous. It was _you_that started this feud with him, remember? On the train in first year?"

"Well this is now, that was then. Besides, I have been making an effort with your filthy friends. Remember, I've been living with them for the past few months!"

_Filthy?_ Harry was incensed

"Only because you had to, to keep your cover! If you could just show them that it wasn't all an act-"

"You know Potter, that's the worst thing." Draco shot back, looking flushed and upset "It really _wasn't_ an act, towards the end. They were actually growing on me - but as soon as they found out I wasn't the Great and Noble Potter whose farts unicorns and sunshine, I was cast aside like a dead house elf."

Draco turned away from Harry to face the window, looking murderous.

"Draco..." Harry said softly then sighed "How are they supposed to have known you weren't constantly thinking horrid thoughts about them? I'll speak to them for you when I get ba-"

"Don't bother Potter." snarled Draco, and Harry felt irritation at the brush off

"Stop calling me that, will you-"

"You know what? Why don't you just stop talking. And whilst you're at it, maybe it wouldn't hurt if you took a moment to think of things from my point of view. Yes, I started things in first year, but if you stupid Gryffindors ever took a moment to think why-"

"The world doesn't revolve around you Draco," Harry said angrily, "We had better things to do than analyse your petty temper tantrums!"

"The Weasleys live in a shack like house elves in a shed!" Draco snapped "Why would you think I'd ever have had reasons to think of them as anything other than tramps or muggles, by some miracle allowed to go to school with _real_ people!"

"You are impossible, Malfoy." Harry spat, getting to his feet "I'm going to sit somewhere else before I say something I regret."

"Fine. Go kiss up to Granger and Weasley, see if I care." Draco said "Lucky for you they're on the train. Heading back to the Weasel Hole, I hear!"

"You know what, I _will_go talk to them."

"You'll understand when you see the manor." Draco said mutinously. "Just you compare it to their hovel then, you'll see."

Harry shook his head in disgust and exited the carriage.

…ooo000ooo…

Harry didn't bother finding Ron and Hermione. He didn't want to sit in hostile silence yet again with only different companions. He found an empty carriage and spent the remaining hours watching the countryside pass by.

When the train reached London however, Harry got to his feet and cast an uncertain glance towards the nearest door and back down the train where he knew Draco was sitting alone. The train was slowing now, and Harry finally made his decision and marched back down the narrow corridor.

Draco was standing by a door, staring listlessly outside as the platform appeared through the glass. He noticed Harry, but his expression remained blank as he looked at him and then back to the platform.

"I'll be seeing you in a week." Harry said as the doors opened.

Draco didn't reply, but stepped out of the train and Harry followed him, confused. Wasn't Draco going back to Hogwarts?

They were standing at the furthest end of the platform, mostly hidden from the rest of the people by a jutting part of the station building, which left the last door of the last train compartment with a section of platform only four feet wide to embark on.

"Well. Bye then, I suppose." Harry said, and for a moment they stood in silence, watching the somewhat sparse crowd get off the Hogwarts Express, Draco looking torn between sulking and replying, and Harry unwilling to leave the safety of the alcove to the awaiting arms of his 'family'.

Finally, Draco spoke, his voice strained "I would tell you to get out there before I hug you…"

Harry turned in surprise.

"but you Gryffindors thrive on that sort of sentimental rot."

Draco stood there for a few long seconds looking awkward, cheeks growing flushed until Harry realised like the idiot he was that this was supposed to be an apology of sorts and that a response was required. Two courses of actions opened up before him, one which would cement their newly recovered hostility from the episode on the train, and one which wandered into emotional regions he wasn't quite at ease with just yet, especially after their earlier quarrel.

Harry drew himself up and affected a perfect Malfoy sneer and chose something in between.

"I think you'll find I'm more Slytherin that you expect." he said coldly, and turned away. He didn't quite manage to quash the traitorous smirk that was trying to escape as he took the first step into the crowd of waiting families, and he hadn't missed the fleeting expression of hurt and disappointment on Draco's face, but he couldn't cave in yet.

He took another two quick steps before stopping and twirling on the spot and running back to where Draco was beginning to re-board the train already, his expression shuttered. He looked up sharply at the sound of Harry's expensive shoes scuffing the platform, and his face showed first alarm then suspicion as he took on the wide smile on the approaching face.

"What-?!" his voice cut off as Harry jumped him, arms wrapping around his shoulders tightly.

"Still a Gryffindor at heart though!" Harry muttered into Draco's read and gold scarf, sniggering and Draco's shoulders relaxed, but he was already trying to shove Harry off him.

"Very funny!" Draco snapped, but Harry could feel the vibrations of a silent laugh beginning in the chest that was pressed against his, and his own smile only grew wider, though he allowed himself to be pushed away, and reluctantly let go.

Draco was red faced and giving Harry a glare that was nowhere near the potency it had the potential of reaching, and Harry focussed on his lips, which were quirking into a smirk that Draco was clearly trying to repress before it turned into a laugh.

Harry, suddenly feeling filled with warmth and light, wondered if perhaps now was the time for acting without thinking, and was on the brink of some rash action when Draco's eyes settled on something behind Harry and his expression sobered up somewhat.

"Way to put on a show, Malfoy." Draco said, pursing his lips in a manner that Harry knew was hiding amusement.

Harry turned around.

Ron, Hermione and Neville Longbottom were standing just inside the train door, looking utterly gob smacked.

_Excorio - I flay_

_Decollo - I behead, decapitate_

A/N - I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter; it's mostly made up of joining moments…I'm beginning to focus more on what's still to come, but I've got to get through so many minor details first! Still, please review…and while you're at it, read SwimDraconian's fic Circular Reasoning, I read it recently and thought it was incredible but forgot to give it a shout in the last chapter update. If you're looking for more Drarry, please take a look at my other WIP Improbable Vs Impossible, which I'm looking for reader input for.

Please Review! It makes me happy


	16. 16

a/n – another chapter of 'joining moments', I'm afraid.

Harry waited nervously on the platform, checking his watch and smoothing down his hair.

_I'm going to see my parents._

He turned abruptly as the Hogwarts Express started up behind him, and watched with his heart beating somewhere in the region of his stomach as it pulled out of the station slowly. He couldn't see Draco.

He returned to watching the crowd, teeth tugging at his lip and eyes on the alert for that distinctive shade of platinum hair.

The crowd was thinning now, and it hadn't been large in the first place. No sign of any Malfoys so far. Was Draco usually left standing alone? Harry couldn't remember. He'd always given his hostile farewells to Draco on the train, he'd been too focused on his anxiety at returning to Privet Drive.

Harry waited.

He passed the time wondering whether Mr and Mrs Malfoy would like him. He even dared to entertain the thought that they might prefer him to Draco after all. He felt a twinge of guilt at that, but at the same time he couldn't help hoping that he was finally going to receive the acceptance he had always craved. Besides, he reasoned, for all he knew the Dursleys might prefer Draco to Harry, when they met him. Hadn't they always complained he was too unkempt and ill-mannered?

It had been ten minutes now. _Surely someone should be here by now?_

Harry swallowed, eyes wandering over to the platform entrance. Perhaps they were waiting outside?

It didn't seem right, that Mr and Mrs Malfoy would stand out among the muggles, but if they were…well this wasn't the best way to start off his life with his real family, keeping them waiting out there.

Mind made up, yet more nervous than ever, Harry lifted his chin, straightened his back and shoulders, and walked confidently to the barrier pulling his trunk behind him as if he had meant to do so all along.

"Master Malfoy!" a high pitched voice piped up as Harry got ready to walk through the barrier. He turned, relieved, then frowned.

A house elf wearing a dirty rag was standing next to the barrier wringing his – or her – hands and shifting from foot to foot in a manner reminiscent of Dobby.

"Er –" Harry started, glancing around quickly. There was still no sign of his parents.

"Master Malfoy!" the elf exclaimed again, tugging on its ears. "Mobby was late – she will iron her ears, she will! But then she is waiting, and Master Malfoy is not coming! Mobby is worrying, thinking she has lost young master, I is thinking mistress will have Mobby throw herself into the pond!"

"Sorry." Harry said automatically, and the elf swooned while Harry's gut lurched. Draco had said Narcissa'wasn't so bad'…surely she wouldn't really have the elf drown itself?

"Master Malfoy is thanking Mobby…Mobby hasn't _ever _been thanked-"

"Let's go." Harry said shortly, realizing abruptly that showing kindness to house elves was a sure way to give himself away.

"Yes, yes, of course, Mobby knows we should hurry!" the elf straightened up, wiped its knobbly hands on its rag-dress and held one of them out to Harry.

_This is it._

Harry took the scaly little hand.

…ooo000ooo…

Draco pulled his scarf around him tighter, and began the long walk back to school. Down under Hogsmeade, the tunnel was freezing, but that wasn't the only reason he was breathing deeply through his scarf, which still smelled a little like Harry.

But these were pointless, stupid thoughts he was having. He inhaled again.

Shaking his head as the ground began to climb he tried to think about how he was going to pass the next week alone. Granger and Weasley were going to be away as well. They had changed their plans at the last minute. Draco knew they usually stayed to keep Harry company at Christmas, but as _Harry_ wasn't at Hogwarts, and of course they didn't want to spend time with _him_…

He let that thought die as well.

So what, he was alone at Christmas? It wouldn't be the first time. Only…he didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he had been…well, s_ort of _looking forward to this year being accompanied by friends on Christmas day. Yes, he knew they technically weren't his friends, and even if they had stayed it wouldn't have been the same now that they knew who he really was, but still…

"Oh _balls!_" Draco huffed at himself "Gryffindor has made me _soft_!"

…ooo000ooo…

Harry could only stare.

The Manor was a large – no, a _gigantic_ grey stone structure, looming five stories above the expansive grounds. There was no ivy crawling up the walls like in some old homes – something small, and almost unnoticeable until Harry was confronted with this bare monolith. Malfoy Manor screamed conformity and grim depression. The windows were many, and tall yet relatively narrow. Similarly the front door was not narrow either, and yet with its almost ridiculous height it appeared so. The building however was not a single grey block; behind the uniform front there was a wing jutting out towards the back of the building and eventually fading out of sight in the misty weather, and this part of the building was a bit more sprawling and uneven, the way an old house should be…yet it was still covered by the neat grey slate roof.

Harry had never felt so small and out of place as he did right now. This…building wasn't made for a family of three. It must contain literally _hundreds _of empty parlors, dressing rooms, bedrooms, drawing rooms, dining rooms…and for a couple and their only son – it was a ridiculous amount of space, and that didn't even count the gardens that surrounded it.

Harry began the long walk up to the austere front doors. He passed topiaries and fountains, all of them oversized and ostentatious. He could see leafy dragons and green serpents and less frightening natural sculptures like rabbits and peacocks, although they were almost hidden and further away. They made him feel like a dwarf passing the giant statues and towering walls of greenery.

He tried to imagine a little boy playing in this garden – or perhaps estate was a better word for a place so large – and smiled. He could just see a little blond head peeping through topiaries at arriving guests, climbing on top of the hedge shaped into the form of a serpent and pretending he was riding it, building dens beneath the tall statues, pretending to fish in the pond – a distant body of water that Harry caught glimpses of periodically, and perhaps playing with a puppy on the lawn. A crup puppy, probably, Harry reminded himself. Crups were popular among purebloods. It was nothing like the childhood Harry had had, and he found himself longing for it, his mood turning melancholy and pensive yet again.

…ooo000ooo…

Draco settled himself silently at a table in Gryffindor common room, Charms homework and a quill ready in front of him. Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth-years had been given for the holidays, Draco was in no mood to work. Ron and Hermione weren't here, but no one else knew his secret, and Gryffindor tower was hardly less crowded now than during term time.

It seemed to have shrunk slightly, too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. The Weasley twins, Fred and George had had a great success with their invented joke product, Canary Creams, and although Draco hadn't experienced their effect himself, it seemed that turning into a Canary at odd moments was an enjoyable experience and people kept bursting into feather all over the place.

"Hey Harry!"

It was Dean Thomas. Draco offered a weak smile.

"Come and play exploding snap! Whatchya' doing homework for?!"

Draco hesitated for a moment, looking between his poised quill and the raucous group of laughing teens gathered at the fireplace. It wasn't a very Slytherin gathering, and it certainly wasn't Malfoy-approved…but what people didn't know wouldn't hurt them. . He set his quill down.

…ooo000ooo…

Draco's bedroom was, like the rest of the manor, very large, and the furniture no less ostentatious than Harry had been preparing himself for. He could have run laps around the room, and the canopy bed was at least seven feet in width, and that alone had Harry staring in disbelief. The furniture was all black with silver knobs and feet, and carved in an elaborate and curvy style that made Harry want to label it as French, though he knew nothing about interior design. The carpet was, unsurprisingly, deep green, and was thick - and warm too, when Harry bent down to touch it in awe after his feet literally sank into it by a few centimeters.

If Draco hadn't added his own touch to the place, it would have been a perfect hotel room in some very expensive and exclusive getaway, comfortable and expensive, yet not homely.

Draco's personal effects made all the difference. A scarf casually folded over the back of a chair, old schoolbooks on the bookshelves, a stuffed toy dragon peeping out from under the bed…and then there was Draco's quidditch posters.

Behind the heavy (and no doubt hand-carved) door, was a life-sized poster of a muscled wizard with an easy grin, and a top-of-the-range broomstick casually balanced on his shoulder. Every now and again he would swap the broom to a different shoulder and run a hand through his dark hair which would ruffle and stand on end in a way that made Harry frown. He had the oddest feeling ... Unconsciously he mirrored the action.

Acting on suspicion alone, Harry moved towards one of the many wardrobes that lined the walls and on opening the door, was not disappointed.

This time twin posters with grey and white falcon emblems greeted him, one depicting a shirtless male with a snitch in one hand and a broom in the other, the other with showed a man holding a beater bat and flexing his biceps. Harry stared at it for a moment, then closed the door.

"Okay." He said slowly, blinking. _Well I don't really know what to make of that_.

Knowing Draco Malfoy liked men was very different from seeing proof of it.

"Master Draco?"

Harry jumped half a foot and slammed the cupboard door shut. "Oh, Mobby, it's just you-"

"Mistress is waiting for Master in the green room." The little elf said, looking stern "Why hasn't Master changed into his dinner robes yet?"

"Oh," Harry said guiltily. He had been too busy examining his surroundings to have followed the elf's instructions, and he didn't want to be late to see his…his mother. He smiled reluctantly at the though of finally using that word to address someone. True, he had thought he would say 'mum', but Narcissa Malfoy just wasn't that kind of parent – or so Draco said.

"I'll er – just get changed now then," he told the elf "If you pick out some robes for me." He added hastily, while thinking furiously.

_The green room?_ _Was that the dining room? Or one of the lounges?_

…ooo000ooo…

Harry practiced his Malfoy swagger as he strode down the hallways and corridors of Malfoy Manor. Behind a rather fixed smirk, however, he was desperately going over Draco's maps in his head.

_Green drawing room…above the sun room…down the stairs next to the second bathroom from my bedroom, opposite the portrait of Hesperius Malfoy…_

Harry did not like his family home.

The Manor was beautiful, in it's own way…but whoever had designed and built it had had pride and grandness in mind rather than a home. The hallways were tall and dim, lit by ornate lanterns. The floors were made of dark wooden floorboards covered by opulent rugs which did nothing to dispel the permanent chill the building seemed to exude.

Every footstep was heralded by a creak, every movement watched by the disapproving eyes of a portrait or marble bust, and Harry was beginning to wonder if it was actually possible to have a happy childhood in such a place. The darkness, and creakiness of the place was enough to frighten any small child never mind the thought of hundreds of dim, empty rooms.

He finally reached the room where he hoped his mother was waiting, and paused outside. Of course she would have heard him coming, but he needed a moment to compose himself.

_Cold and indifferent _he told himself. Draco would never show gratitude for affection, nor return it, even if he reveled in it privately.

Straightening his shoulders, he took a deep breath and let himself in.

…ooo000ooo…

"Draco!"

Narcissa Malfoy had been standing in front of the window with her back to the parlour, but when the door opened she had turned around, and in a rush of silk robes, she was at Harry's side, planting feathery kisses on either cheek.

Harry forced a polite smile, and allowed her to draw him into a light hug which he drew no warmth from; her silk robes were cold and the lace around her neck and wrists was scratchy.

"Mother." He greeted her formally, as instructed.

"Oh Draco!" she gushed, drawing back to look him up and down, her expression soft. Harry found he couldn't make himself meet her eyes.

Her words weren't particularly genuine sounding, but he would have swapped her for Aunt Petunia in a heartbeat.

"Sabine will adore you! You remember Sabine, don't you? The Montpellier girl? Oh - look how tall you've gotten since June!"

Her grey eyes, so like Draco's -_ mine _- passed over him, her cupid's bow mouth turning up in appreciation, and then she launched into praise for this much famed Sabine Montpellier.

If Harry hadn't met Molly Weasley with her bone-crushing hugs, he would have fallen for it, hook, line and sinker, he told himself. But then, before Mrs Weasley, Harry had never thought it possible that someone would display affection towards him in any measure. Narcissa Malfoy was beautiful, elegant and charming, but in a way Harry felt he could no more connect with this woman emotionally than he could with a butterfly or passing cloud. Draco had tried to explain, but he only understood now.

She loved her son, Harry could feel it as she spoke, and her words were light and pleasant sounding to the air, but there depth missing from her words, her touches. Harry could tell she'd had nothing to do with Draco's upbringing, he could tell it by the way she touched him, like china, that the house elves had been the ones to sit up at night with the crying baby, and tend to Draco when he was ill. He could see it in the way she looked at him, with the sort of short-lived delight that would pass when something else caught her attention.

She loved her son in the way one might like a pet, or a favored ornament. She didn't _know _him. She loved the idea of a son, but did she _love _in the way Harry knew Lily Potter had loved her son? Somehow he couldn't seem to apply that vision of unconditional love he had seen in his photo album to this beautiful yet distant figure.

Narcissa's pale hair was pulled into an elegant bun, and her jeweled earrings glimmered as she cocked her head and studied his face, pausing in her chatter. This time Harry met her gaze, and was suddenly unsure of his assessment.

Maybe he was perhaps just not used to seeing someone like her as a human being. She was almost intimidating with her beauty and refined manners. In a way it shouldn't be surprising that someone like her would show affection differently to people like the Weasleys; purebloods like the Malfoys weren't exactly demonstrative on the whole and the hug Narcissa had bestowed on him might have been as foreign to her as to Harry.

Suddenly she smiled again as she smoothed down his hair once more.

"It's been too long, Dragon."

_Dragon?_

Her touches might not feel as warm as Mrs Weasley's but the way she was looking at him, now that he had allowed himself to see, made him feel a little less judgmental.

_Does it matter? She's my mother._

Despite himself, Harry allowed himself to lose some of his stiffness and leaned into her touch.

"Your father won't be home until tonight darling, but I thought we could have a cup of tea together while you tell me how school went."

"Of course, Mother." Harry agreed, smiling back at her. Remembering his manners, he added "but why don't you tell me about your time in France first?"

…ooo000ooo…

Tea went well, but Harry nearly lost it at dinner.

Lucius Malfoy had arrived in a bad temper, and he had seated himself at the head of the table where his wife and son waited and began eating immediately without a word of greeting.

Narcissa nodded at him politely, but he wasn't looking at her, so she picked up her spoon and began to take delicate sips of her soup.

Harry's eyes darted around the table before he reached for his own soup spoon.

The main course was the worst part. Harry had spent about thirty seconds looking at the array of cutlery around his plate before he used his brain and glanced over at Narcissa to see which knife he should use.

This was the point at which Lucius deigned to notice him.

He knew immediately, by the cold prickle of watching eyes on his neck. He wisely took a moment to finish chewing his cauliflower before raising his head to meet his father's gaze.

"I see you're still ridiculously short." Lucius snapped.

Harry felt his face redden, and he looked away. He knew he couldn't let himself get angry, Draco had told him that was a Very Bad Idea and it also might give him away.

"I thought," Narcissa said delicately, pausing with wine glass in hand "that Draco has become quite dashing."

Harry shot her a grateful glance without thinking about it. He hadn't thought much of her earlier. He'd started off very unsure of her, and she had shown genuine interest in his activities at school which had bolstered his hopes, but she was altogether too easily tricked into talking about herself for very long periods when he'd run out of things to say.

"Dashing." Lucius snorted, and lapsed into silence.

Harry was just about to take another bite when he started up again.

"What we need," Lucius said, his voice cold "is a young _man_. Not this _dandy_ you've turned him into Narcissa. Look at him!"

"He's a fine young man." Narcissa replied evenly "The girls are enchanted with him at school, aren't they dear?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply but was cut off.

"Much good it'll do them!" Lucius scoffed "Girls grow out of wanting a _pretty boy_. Soon they'll want someone who looks as if they won't be blown over in a stiff breeze. Perhaps he should get his hair cut shorter. I don't like to go against tradition, but-"

"He'll come into his manly features in time, Lucius." Narcissa looked upset at his proposal

"And what of his school results? If I have to beat him for every test that Mudblood surpasses him in-"

"Dear, not at the table, please."

"May I be excused?" Harry stood up, waiting stiffly for Lucius's approval. All he got was a sneer, but he took it, and was hard pressed not to leave the room at a run. He pretended not to see Narcissa's lips tremble.

…ooo000ooo…

Harry's eyes were blurring slightly as he dropped onto the huge bed. He squeezed them shut furiously.

_What did I expect? He's Lucius Malfoy! He nearly killed Ginny with the diary!_

He had thought that Lucius would be a little more fatherly towards his own son, but instead he was as bad as Vernon Dursley.

Well, Draco _had _warned him.

Still…was it too much to hope for parents who simple loved him _and_ treated him as much? Lucius was nothing like the ideal father that Harry had seen in James…but in the end, did it matter? James was dead, either way he had no father. At least Lucius was alive.

Narcissa confused him. He didn't want to trust her, but she seemed to care for him, and she'd stood up for him, hadn't she? It just disturbed him though, the way she didn't seem at ease around him sometimes. Had Draco been a difficult teenager? Or worse, was he like Lucius sometimes? Harry felt a moment of unease. It made sense that she might be tentative around a boy who might have been unfriendly and hostile, especially if she didn't see him often and wasn't used to being a mother…

He bit his lip. _Draco is a good person .Even if he has learnt things…mannerisms…from Lucius, there's no way he would mean them in the same way. _

For a long while, Harry sat in silence trying to imaging Draco speaking cruelly to his mother. No matter how he pictured it though, it didn't seem natural. Draco was not a monster. Not like Lucius.

_He must have just been difficult…probably_.

At least Harry hoped so.

Harry snorted and opened his eyes. _Did I seriously just _question_ Draco Malfoy being a difficult teenager?_

He was just moving to lug himself off the bed and end his pity fest when his eyes caught on something moving above him.

"Oh my god."

_Sean Balton, Falmouth Falcons _ read a small label at the bottom of the poster that was haphazardly spell-o-taped to the roof of the bed's canopy.

For a moment Harry merely took in the vision of muscles and wind-tossed hair as the quidditch player grinned down at him.

Then he sniggered.

Suddenly it all seemed hilarious. Had Draco, like Harry, flopped down on his bed after being reamed out by his father, with Sean Balton to cheer him up? And Lucius, making pointed comments on how Draco needed to man-up? How ironic. It reminded him of Sirius; it was the sort of thing his godfather would do to piss of his family.

Harry's eyes passed over the poster once more, then forced himself to his feet before his eyes lingered.

…ooo000ooo…

"Draco." Severus sighed, not pausing in his stirring of the cauldron. "I thought I told you I needed absolute peace and quiet to work on this potion."

"No you didn't." Draco said sullenly, closing the door behind him with a click and sliding into a seat.

"I shouldn't have to _tell _you out loud." The potions master muttered, lifting the stirring rod from the mixture to take a delicate sniff of the clear liquid that was dripping from it.

Draco dropped his head onto the desk, and Severus noted the action with a roll of his eyes.

"It's only been two days. How is it that you are pining over him already?" Snape said, his voice mockingly delicate.

Draco's head shot up like a bullet, immediately the un-charming shade of red that only a Potter could achieve when angry – or embarrassed. "I'm not _pining_!" he snapped "He's an _idiot_-" he said with relished venom "he can hardly do any of those curses properly, he can't dance, and he's a terrible actor!"

_He's cheering up already, _Snape noted with smug satisfaction _I must admit I have missed our little talks about Potter…which brings me on to that other matter…_his lip curled in digust at the thought.

"And how, exactly – forgive me – would _you _know whether Potter is a good dancer?"

Draco had been getting into deriding Harry so much that his face had returned to its normal shade, but this comment soon had it flushing disgustingly again, and Severus had confirmation of his worst fears.

"I needed to teach him how to dance. For mother's ball." Draco muttered

"And naturally you were the only one for the job?"

"Granger was a terrible teacher!" Draco defended with unwarranted vehemence

"Of course." Severus conceded and Draco relaxed

"And who would have thought he would have, ah – _connected_ – so much better with yourself." Severus added delicately.

Finally Draco seemed to gain control of his colour and looked at Severus directly, those green eyes telling no secrets for once.

"Stop _implying_ things, will you." It was a command, not a question and Severus found some small delight in not paying attention to the hidden plea to _please shut up_, in return for the impudence.

"Of all people to choose…" Severus sneered "I thought you had a _little_ more class."

Draco remained still. "You know nothing. Stop fishing for – whatever you're fishing for."

"I _know_ nothing? Certainly." Severus inclined his head "But I have eyes. And I know _you, _Draco." he added a little more softly.

Draco lifted his chin defiantly. "It's really none of your business."

"And yet I hear no denials." Snape said, a tad morosely, reaching for a jar of scarab beetles and returning to his cauldron. "I am _most _disappointed, Draco. In your taste, as well as how it looks as if I shall have to rant and rage about Potter only to the headmaster now."

"I wouldn't count on it." Draco huffed, returning his head to the desk.

Severus could almost sense his godson's smile.

…ooo000ooo…

"_Aduro!" _Harry forced out.

The rabbit burst into flames, and Harry kept his eyes fixed on it without really seeing. Distantly, he heard Lucius make some remark, and he lowered his wand.

"We should start on house elves." Lucius said ponderously.

Harry felt the blood drain from his face, and Lucius's calculating eyes widened in triumph at the sight.

"Just as I thought," Lucius sneered "you're a sniveling little coward."

"A coward because I won't hurt things that can't defend themselves?" Harry shot back, anger suddenly enflaming him.

Lucius smiled grimly, as if he'd been waiting for it, and the bottom of Harry's stomach seemed to fall out.

"_Crucio!"_

…ooo000ooo…

Lucius didn't call on Harry to perform again. Harry had thought he'd heard raised voices one night, but he couldn't bring himself to go closer and listen in.

He'd done what he needed to. He told himself that it was only a transfigured rabbit, like Snape had used, but he didn't know that for certain. Hell, he didn't know if a transfigured rabbit was even _real _in the sense a natural rabbit was, and he truly did not want to ever find out.

What would he do if Lucius asked him to flay a house elf? Of course he'd refuse, but what would Lucius do to him for such disobedience? Surely he wouldn't kill his son?

He turned over in bed, pulled his knees up to his chest and tried to relax. His finger joints were still aching a little from the _cruciatus_.

Sean gave him a merry wink from up high.

A/N - So…another chapter. Hope you liked it. Please review if you did!


	17. 17

Harry leant his warm cheek against the cold window and watched two peacocks take turns to chase each other across the grounds.

He was bored and alone.

It was his third night at the manor, and after the distant argument he had heard the night before, the house had been silent as the grave. Was he alone? He didn't want to find out. If he ran into Lucius, who knew what he might be asked to do, and if he saw Narcissa…he didn't know.

Sometimes he thought he wouldn't mind a casual conversation with her. Even if he wasn't completely comfortable with her, he felt a sort of obligation to get to know her. Then he would remember that she must know the spells Lucius had him practice, and the ones that were inflicted on him. She hadn't interfered. She hadn't stopped her husband from practicing unforgivables on him. What did that mean? Did she approve? Was she too frightened to say anything? Didn't she care?

Harry shrank down into a hunched position and closed his eyes, balancing his forehead on his knees in despair. He hated this place. It was too big, too hostile, and it was supposed to be his _home_. He couldn't imagine having to return to this place every summer, let alone growing up here.

He supposed it might help if he had any of his real belongings, or if he felt more at ease wandering the grounds. However the truth was he didn't want to go through Draco's stuff, and he didn't want to leave his room. He wanted to crawl into bed until this was over and he could go home, to Hogwarts. Even Privet Drive might not be so bad. He opened his eyes and cast his gaze over the cavernous room, and his mind turned back to that thing Draco had said to him on the train.

_"Why would you think I'd ever have had reasons to think of them as anything other than tramps or muggles, somehow allowed to go to school with real people!"_

Certainly Harry was beginning to see that a child growing up here might be taken aback at the least to meet someone whose entire family home could fit comfortable into his bedroom. Especially someone who had six siblings.

_If it were_ me _though, _he argued with himself _I would just be jealous that Ron had so many brothers to play with_.

Maybe Draco _had_ been jealous, Harry was beginning to realise. It had to have been a lot for an eleven-year-old to deal with. Practically no one – apart from some of the other purebloods – would have experienced Draco's lifestyle. He'd never have met someone who lived differently properly, and only heard of them spoken of in negative terms.

Had Draco even played with other children at all?

The thought chilled Harry.

He imagined waking up alone at night in a bed that could have slept half of Harry's pre-school class. Reaching over to grasp a cup of water in the dark alone would have taken some bravery; he remembered how he used to be frightened in his cupboard at night because he didn't like the dark, but at least that had been a small space. Who knew what monsters a child could imaging grabbing his hand as he reached blindly for water in the dark over that black space between the bed and the table.

Crying out for his mother when he had a nightmare would have done no good. Would anyone check up on him through the night? Was there a house elf even, to attend to him? Would he have been left alone through the dark hours?

He tried to imaging himself as a little boy waking up so horribly alone in this huge house, getting caught up in the heavy covers as he pushed himself out of bed, his little feet stretching for the ground, with no one to comfort him if he fell.

Harry leapt to his feet, running fingers through his hair in distress.

He _hated_ this place.

He couldn't explain it. He couldn't rationalize why, but somehow Privet Drive with the Durselys seemed like child's play compared to the Manor. Something about it inherently disagreed with him.

Perhaps it was because the more he got to know his 'home' the worse it turned out to be. The place grew no more homely or familiar; on the contrary, it seemed colder and more intimidating every morning. Maybe it was because of the Dark Magic performed in it over the centuries. The thing that bothered him the most though, was that it was a place of suffering for someone. Draco.

Harry didn't have any solid evidence that Draco had been unhappy here, but evidence to the contrary was similarly absent. He imagined he felt the same way about it that Ron or Hermione might about Privet Drive, knowing how badly a friend had been treated there.

He could never hate Privet Drive as much as he did the Manor though. This place was hateful, steeped in Dark Magic. He wished he could burn the place to the ground with Lucius in it. He would save Narcissa, she was...different.

Harry decided he needed a distraction. He was sure Draco wouldn't mind if he had a look through his cupboards. There had to be something he could occupy himself with, playing cards, or a chess set maybe.

Opening the nearest cupboard door, Harry was gratified to find a pile of old _Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle _comics, and some_ Which Broomstick? _broom maintenance manuals underneath a rack of robes. Grabbing a few, he made his way over to the bed and settled down, only to be disturbed by a tap at the window.

It was Draco's Eagle Owl, Chiron. Frowning, Harry got to his feet to retrieve the envelope in his claws, artfully plucking it away before Chiron managed to get in a proper nip at his fingers.

His own, slightly too forced, messy scrawl confirmed that Draco had sent this letter to him.

"Well at least you've got a bit better at writing messily." Harry murmured to himself, settling back onto the bed.

Ripping open the envelope, he was surprised to find it almost empty, apart from a square piece of thick paper.

_Not paper_...Harry realised.

A photograph.

Harry pulled it out and stared at it for a long minute. He couldn't help it. This was the last thing he had expected, and it was uncharacteristically...sweet of Draco to do. He'd always known that Draco was more thoughtful than he let on, but this...

Harry watched the people in the photograph with a soft expression for a long time that night.

…ooo000ooo…

Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portals were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The houseelves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews, and only Fleur De-la-Tart seemed to find anything to complain about.

"It is all too 'eavy, all 'zis 'Ogwarts food," Draco heard her saying grumpily on the way back from one of his many sulking sessions with Severus in the dungeons. "I will not fit into my dress robes!"

"Stupid tart." he muttered, and turned back to the dungeons, only to be confronted with Snape himself.

"Don't bother," the Potions Master snapped "Filius and Hagrid are coming from that direction."

"Trying to rope you into decorating?" Draco guessed

Snape harrumphed and turned for the entrance hall.

"Are we going outside?"

"_We_ are doing nothing," Severus corrected "stop following me. And why were you heading back into the dungeons? I thought I told you to keep out of my classroom?" he said, scowling "I've had more than enough of watching you agonize over your dear sweet beau."

"Sev _shut up_!" Draco snapped "Why do you have to romanticize _everything? _If you think your constant exaggerations actually embarrass me-"

"Could it be the way I find you brooding in alcoves and in front of scenic portraits, posing and sighing like love's young dream?"

Draco's jaw dropped "I do _not –_"

"And I do admit your beetroot impersonations are somewhat amusing. What will Harrykins say when he returns, I _do _wonder?"

Draco's jaw snapped shut with a click. "Severus don't you _dare_! I don't know where you're getting this from, I haven't confirmed or denied a thing!"

"The latter is what makes this all the more interesting. Now go away, I need to collect potions ingredients _in peace_."

With that, Snape swept off, leaving Draco looking as gormless as the real Harry Potter ever had as he stared at his retreating back in disbelief.

"Alrigh' Harry?" called a gruff voice, and Draco closed his eyes in exasperation. He took a deep breath to help him to keep his patience before he turned around, pasting a smile on his face.

"Hagrid!" he exclaimed as joyously as he could. "I suppose you'll be wanting me to come help you and Professor Flitwick with charming the mistletoe?"

…ooo000ooo…

It happened to be the night of the Malfoy Yule ball when Harry came across It.

He had just finished greasing back his hair, and he'd suddenly realized that Mobby hadn't laid out any underwear with the rest of his clothes that had been set out on the bed for him.

His dress robes were deep green, and Harry felt like rebelling, so he dug a little deeper into Draco's top drawer than he had previously, knowing that somewhere there was a pair of red and gold boxers in there somewhere. He couldn't imagine why Draco would own anything in those colours, but he had spotted them at the bottom of his school trunk during term and had firmly decided that if he had ever needed some Gryffindor courage, it was tonight, and so he went on rifling through the drawer.

His hand had brushed paper, and in curiosity, Harry had pulled out a rolled up magazine.

He opened it at random without looking at the cover.

Harry only got a brief glimpse of moving, unclad bodies before he shoved it back in the drawer, red-faced.

He'd never thought about wizarding moving photographs being used for _that_.

Harry was so shocked that his hands were shaking. He'd just experienced something that most teenagers experience at a younger age; whether it be walking in on their parents having sex, or accidentally turning on the wrong channel late at night.

The result was the same, because Harry was woefully inexperienced when it came to that sort of thing, and well brought-up children like those at Hogwarts generally were not the sort to paw at dirty magazines behind their school desks, and there were no bike-sheds at Hogwarts. If there was talk about things like this, Harry did not hear of it because he and Ron could hardly speak of such things in front of Hermione, even if Ron was the type of person who didn't turn bright red when he accidentally touched a girl's hand.

He felt hot and ashamed, ashamed he had seen, and _looked_, and also on behalf of Draco who would be mortified if he knew Harry had seen it.

And that was nothing compared to how ashamed he felt with that image seemingly burned onto the inside of his eyelids, and the corresponding heat in his groin.

Between Voldemort, being isolated from his peer group in the muggle world, and the fact that he had spent those years when boys are the most curious with a very prim and proper girl as one of his best friends, Harry had had yet to discover this more colorful side of life and here it had dropped into his hands like a bomb.

Harry re-covered the offending item with socks and underwear without looking at it, grabbed a pair of black boxers, and slammed the drawer shut.

But by the time he had gotten dressed though, Harry was curious.

Lifting the magazine back out, he took a peek at the cover. It was very tame compared to its contents, and the main cover model was a man with that dark, tousled hair that Draco seemed to favor. He barely read the title, his eye flew to the moving image of two men kissing fervently in the corner. He stared for a long moment, then rolled the magazine back up and stuffed it down to the very bottom of the drawer.

There was a knock at the door, and Harry jumped.

"Draco?" came Narcissa's voice "Can I come in?"

A parental visit to his bedroom was unprecedented so far, and Harry was caught more off-guard than he ever hoped to be again. He checked the drawer was shut properly, adjusted his robes (whilst trying hard not to think too deeply on why he had to), and thought very hard about Hagrid and Madame Maxime in an attempt to dispel the blush he was sure he was sporting.

"Draco?"

"Oh Merlin.." Harry muttered "Come in!"

…ooo000ooo…

"Are you alright?" Narcissa said softly as she pushed the door closed behind her. "The guests are beginning to arrive. You should come downstairs."

"Sorry mother. I'm fine." Harry said, giving her a weak smile.

"Oh Dragon." Narcissa gave him a sad smile which Harry wasn't sure how to respond to. "Are you nervous about meeting Sabine?"

_Sabine! _Harry had completely forgotten about her, and the rest of the girls he would have to dance with tonight. He wasn't even sure if he could face a girl after what he had just experienced.

Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face, because Narcissa pulled him into a tight hug.

"My Dragon. Don't worry. Just act as you must."

"Mother?" Harry said, confused.

"You may have to marry Sabine, or a girl like her," his mother whispered into his hair "but no one can stop you from seeing someone else when you are married, as long as you are _discreet_."

She pulled back and surveyed Harry's shocked face with a slight smirk, and Harry could suddenly see who Draco _really_ took after. "A mother always knows." She whispered to him, then beckoned him to come downstairs, looking mischievously smug.

"Just a minute." Harry called, then as she left the room, he dove into his pocket for the photo Draco had sent him. He hand't thought he could go through with this ball, but the photograph had been the only thing to tell him otherwise.

It was taken from some distance. Obviously Draco must have hidden the camera in a corner somewhere – Harry couldn't imagine that Colin Creevey had ever spied on them dancing.

He and Draco spun across the front of the photograph momentarily, then disappeared from sight, only to reappear a moment later, further back this time.

They had been dancing the Viennese waltz, the one that Harry had struggled with. Or at least he thought he had.

When he had first seen it, it had taken him a moment to remember whose body belonged to who in the photo, because both boys were such good dancers.

His eyes were closed in the photograph, but Draco's eyes were open and his mouth was moving as if engaged with one of those one sided conversations Harry had come to be quite attached to.

Their limbs moved in perfect synchronization, Harry and Draco both moved with grace and expression and somehow looked utterly natural in a way Harry had never dreamed he could be. Of course he was dancing in Draco's body, and yet looking at the photo, for once he felt as if he had actually achieved Draco's natural grace and aristocratic poise. It felt completely odd seeing his own body stepping and twirling so perfectly too. He thought to himself that if it really were him, he could never maneuver his own feet so well. Only Draco could possibly make Harry look like such a good dancer. Then again, who knew? He'd thought about ditching all Draco's advice about moving 'sensuously' but clearly it had not looked as bad, or as obvious as he had feared.

If he got cold feet on the dance floor, he would just close his eyes and think of this photo, because in it Harry looked as practiced as any pureblood.

Finally, he turned the photograph over, and read the note on the back with a small smile.

_H-_

_I lied. You can do it_

_-D_

…ooo000ooo…

Perhaps it was for the best that the moment Harry stepped foot into the main ballroom he was immediately ambushed by Pansy Parkinson demanding a dance. It meant that he had to face his fears straight away, rather than have time to worry and decide to get utterly drunk, or just plain run away.

Unable to think of an excuse, he allowed himself to be pulled onto the dance floor which was thankfully already crowded, and before he knew it, he was dancing.

He tried not to think about who might be watching him, and concentrated on moving properly, rather than thinking only about the steps. Pansy seemed delighted at his choice to do the more complicated waltz, and she rose to the occasion by fluffing her moves terribly in an attempt to rub herself all over him.

_And to think Draco said everyone would be ten times better than I could ever hope for!_

Afterwards, Harry let himself be led around the room on her arm, and he was introduced to several giggling girls, and he listened to them talking good-naturedly, only speaking when required.

Eventually he ended up near his mother and, flushed with success after his first foray onto the dance floor, made the mistake of allowing Narcissa to introduce him to the infamous Sabine, or rather, nodding without thinking when Sabine gestured towards the dance floor.

Sabine was pretty enough, though plainer than Harry had expected after Narcissa's excitement about their meeting. Her mousey brown hair hung straight and her eyes were a dull green colour. She had an upturned nose that Pansy wished she had, and rather than hide her freckles under make-up, she wore them with pride on her nose and cheek bones. The only possible complaint Harry could have made about the girl's looks was that her lipstick and eye-make up was very heavy, perhaps to made up for her otherwise fairly au-natural look.

She began to jabber away in French to Harry as she pulled him into a familiar dance pattern, and Harry realized with a shock that Draco had overlooked this detail.

Harry could not speak French.

Did she speak English? Harry began to fill with dread. It would be best if she didn't find out he couldn't speak French, but would it be rude if he asked her to speak English?

Sabine suddenly ended her chattering on a questioning note, and Harry panicked. At the same time, the music became a little faster and Harry realized belatedly that Sabine was a much better dancer than Pansy. There was no room to mess up here.

_What would Draco do?_

The answer came out of nowhere. _Charm her, of course!_

Sabine repeated her question, looking confused.

Harry, without any previous experience of flirting, attempted the sort of smile that he thought Draco might use, and was gratified when Sabine blushed deeply.

"You're very beautiful, you know." Harry said, refusing to break eye contact in an effort to fluster her.

She turned even redder. "Thank you." She said, and her accent was only slight.

_Great, she speaks English! _Harry thought, relieved.

"I'm sorry, I've not been feeling very well tonight," Harry told her, in his best Malfoy voice "Mother insisted I attend the ball, and I wanted to meet you as well, but to be honest I'd really rather be out, getting some fresh air. I'm finding it hard to concentrate with this migraine. What was it you were saying?"

"Oh – I was wondering eef you would be watching ze – ah – the Triwizard Tournament? At your school? My young friend Gabrielle's sister is one of ze champions, Fleur?"

"Yes, I've seen her." Harry nodded as they danced, finding himself struggling to keep up a little "The whole school watches the tournament. It's been good so far. Did you see any of it?"

"No," Sabine said, looking regretful. Harry admired her for being able to speak without seeming out of breath at the speed they were dancing. "I would like to, though. Ze vice-principal at Beauxbatons reads out letters from ze Headmistress, and we can read what has happened in ze papers, but zat is all."

"It's a shame." Harry said, shooting her another smile. "Would you mind if we popped outside for a moment?"

He wasn't sure he could keep up dancing at like this any longer "I could do with a breath of fresh air – my headache, you know."

"Of course!" Sabine beamed, and followed him outside with her hand in his.

"Would you like to walk around the grounds?" Harry asked politely

Sabine blushed again. "Of course." She repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry wasn't sure what Sabine was so nervous about. Did she really fancy Malfoy that much? Had her parents told her to try to please him, like Narcissa had told him to please her?

Well, he was hardly about to take advantage of her.

_Maybe you should, _a quiet voice in the back of his head muttered, and Harry was appalled at himself.

The images from That Magazine suddenly appeared in his mind as if they had never left, and Harry cringed, closing his eyes as if it would help.

"Are you alright?" Sabine said, and when Harry opened his eyes again she was inches from his face.

_Just do it! Don't you want to know? Don't you want to see if it's just all in your head?_

Harry was about to give in and kiss her when a loud groan interrupted them, and they both jumped.

He looked around for the source of the disturbance, and could only gape in shock when he saw what – or who it was.

Blaise Zabini was enveloped in a fervent embrace with another boy ten feet away from them.

"Let's go!" Sabine whispered, tugging at his arm.

The boy dropped to his knees in front of Blaise.

Harry's eyes widened.

"Draco?" Sabine urged.

Shaking himself, Harry led her away, heart beating.

Why was this happening to him? He didn't understand. He just wanted to get this ordeal over with and get back to Hogwarts and Draco.

_Draco_.

Harry wanted to tell himself it was just the combination of the magazine, and Blaise and his partner putting sex on his mind, but he didn't know what to think. All he knew was that he suddenly had an image of Draco kneeling in front of some faceless boy, and he was suddenly not only sick with jealously but relentlessly hard beneath his robes.

"Draco?" Sabine said softly, and for a moment Harry thought she had read his mind, but she was still looking confused and a little embarrassed at the scene she had been exposed to.

Harry gave her a stiff smile. He could barely restrain himself to wait until they found somewhere more discreet before he fixed his lips on hers. He had to know if he was just confused. He didn't like boys, what about Cho Chang? He'd fancied her, hadn't he?

_Not like this, _a voice in his head answered.

Harry was surprised at how eagerly she kissed him when the time came. For all her blushing, she was more forward than he had imagined. After only a minute or so, she was kissing him as if she were eating him alive, he could barely keep up and was already beginning to think this was a bad idea. When he accidentally pressed himself against her hip, before he could apologize and find some way to retreat in mortification, she moaned softly against his lips, effectively silencing him, and plunged a hand into his robes, pressing herself against him insistently.

Harry pulled away immediately. He hadn't meant to make her think – he didn't want-

_Don't you?_

He froze. Did he want to? She was willing enough. Even now, she hadn't taken his pulling away as a sign of rejection, in fact she was kneeling down in front of him.

Harry thought he was about to faint.

She was undoing his buttons, pulling at silk boxers, and Harry's hands were fluttering above her shoulders, unable to decide whether to speak or push her away, or whether he wanted to.

He didn't know – he wasn't ready –

And then her lips closed around him.

_Oh…_

However in the end, it was over almost as quickly as it started.

Harry had been too caught up in the sensations before he remembered that not lasting long was a _bad thing_, and he wondered how Blaise and that boy had managed to last more than thirty seconds because this was _amazing. _He was barely holding on. He looked down at Sabine quickly, angry at himself. He was here with a _girl_. Why was he thinking of Blaise and that boy?

_Well as long as it's not Draco, _Harry thought before he could stop himself, and suddenly he imagined if he looked down he would see Draco there, face upturned to him, and his mouth moving-

Harry tried to stifle the choked cry that came from him, and below, Sabine choked spectacularly.

…ooo000ooo…

Harry took a back route to his room. He didn't really know where he was going, so it took a lot longer than he expected and by the time he had slammed the bedroom door behind him he wished that he would never see another one of those dark, cold corridors again.

His face still burned, from anger or humiliation, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he needed some answers.

He didn't want to see Sabine Montpelier _ever_ again. That had been the most humiliating experience of his life. How was he supposed to know he should have _warned_ her? And had that been contempt in her eyes? Had he been too quick? He must have been. But surely no one else could not stop themselves…_youknow_….with a girl doing _that_.

_The thing is, _he told himself furiously _you weren't thinking of a girl, were you?_

How could his body have betrayed him like that?

He didn't know what he felt for Draco Malfoy. Or at least he hadn't, until tonight. Somewhere deep inside he had known for a while that the way he reacted to Draco wasn't quite right, he never blushed or stammered because of Ron or Hermione, and he never felt so stupidly delighted whenever he managed to make someone else smile or laugh. And he never, _ever_ pictured them going down on him.

He groaned and ran his fingers through his hair.

_I don't need this on top of everything else!_

Things were bad enough without discovering he was…he was…

He couldn't even say it.

He'd seen Blaise and that boy earlier. He'd known there were homosexuals in the school, he'd known _Draco_ was gay!

He hated the thrill that ran through him at the thought, even though the wizarding world clearly had no problem with same-sex relationships.

What was he afraid of? That Draco liked him back?

And what if he was just confused after seeing Draco's magazine? And hadn't he always been terrible with the opposite sex? It didn't mean that- but even as he was about to tell himself there was a good chance that this was all just himself overthinking things, that glorious image, the most wonderful thought he had ever imagined popped into his mind. It was that moment when he had imagined opening his eyes, looking down and seeing, not the mousy-haired girl, but Draco, moonlight on his skin and his face flushed with desire.

Unable to stand not knowing anymore, and once again fighting growing desire, Harry stormed to the drawer and pulled out The Magazine. Turning to the first page, his expression did not turn mortified or disgusted, but instead he searched each image, and his own heart for what he was searching for.

And if his hands strayed into his robes, well no one was there to know about it.

A/N – Aaah! Things are heating up! Squee! I hope you all take these two chapters as a peace offering because I know there has been a bit of a wait since the last update. I moved house and it was all a bit chaotic. Good news is, it's now time for mid-term tests and its currently essay week, so naturally I find myself writing fics instead of studying...


	18. 18

A/N : Hello everyone! I am honestly gutted I have not updated in so long, and I _have_ been thinking about this fic. But you know (if you write too) that sometimes you can't do a piece justice by forcing it. Well, I can't anyway. Today I woke up, and I knew it was the day. I spent all day re-reading Becoming Potter, and now I have a new chapter to present for your enjoyment. I'd like to mention that the 23 reviews I have received so far were very helpful in spurring myself on – I appreciate each one and re-read them often for encouragement. I wouldn't mind hearing about your opinions on a few specific things, if you have the time. The First Task? I was proud of it. I hope you liked it. I also enjoyed re-reading the first scene with Harry and Draco dancing. I feel as if the building of Harry and Draco's relationship at the beginning wasn't very smooth though, and a bit let down that those chapters I wrote in a frenzy of inspiration weren't quite as good as I remember. I surprised myself at the Snape scenes, I think they were good?

Anyway, onwards!

When the train pulled into Hogsmead station, Ron and Hermione were waiting for him, huddled together in an attempt to shelter from the blizzard that was raging around them. The meager wooden shelter offered them no protection from the fierce wind howling through the nearby trees.

Harry glanced around a bit as he disembarked. Where was Draco?

"Harry!" Hermione greeted him as she and Ron approached, but her smile wasn't entirely welcoming. "Where have you been? We only got back yesterday, and Dumbledore said that you went to the _Malfoys_ for Christmas! Without telling him!" She waited, her face stern, for his reply.

"I – uh -"

"Why would you do that?" Ron said, sounding surly as ever, shoving his hands roughly into his pockets.

Harry shuffled, uncomfortable with his once best friend's cold expression. "Mother invited me home, and Draco and I couldn't think of a way to wriggle out of it without looking suspicious."

Ron and Hermione stared at him. He wanted to leave for the castle as soon as possible. The snowflakes were hitting his face at such speed that they felt sharp on his skin, and his hair was whipping around his face.

"I was terrified about going there, really," he said, offering a nervous grin "but I think I pulled it off quite well. No one suspected a thing."

"Since when," Hermione said slowly, "do you call Narcissa Malfoy '_Mother'_."

Harry winced, hesitating. "Sorry… I just got used to saying it I suppose." He couldn't help but feel annoyed when his friends exchanged a glance, and he knew they had been talking about him.

"You used to speak to us about things." Ron said, snorting and turning away, shoulders hunched as he walked into the wind. Hermione followed him, and Harry huffed and went after them

"Ron - Hermione," he said "we weren't exactly talking –"

"And whose fault is that?" Hermione said icily over he shoulder "We certainly weren't the ones keeping huge secrets from _you_."

"You say you were _terrified_," Ron called over the noise of the wind, without turning around "but it looks like the only person who knew about this whole thing was Malfoy!"

"Even the _headmaster_ didn't know you were leaving – Harry, he was very worried about you!" Hermione turned and began walking backwards, so eager as she was to scold him "And if you were so scared about going, he would have been able to help think of an excuse!"

"Yeah, and you couldn't have mentioned you were going to stay with a couple of Death Eaters now could you?"

"Ron-" Harry cut in, beginning to get annoyed.

"And now you come back calling that evil bitch _Mother_!"

"Ronald!" Hermione exclaimed, looking shocked at his language, but Harry had had enough.

"Ron, she _is _my mum!" Harry snapped "Just because I didn't know it until now, doesn't mean I wasn't curious about meeting her! She's actually bloody nice, and if you call her _anything _like that again, I'll knock your teeth in!"

Ron turned red and opened his mouth, looking furious, but Harry knew his temper wouldn't hold if he stopped to listen to him.

"I didn't tell Dumbledore because I knew he wouldn't let me go!" he shot at Hermione "And I'm sorry I haven't been talking to you so much, but I'm still getting used to being able to talk to you both. For the first time I can remember I had someone to call Mother, Ron, and I won't pretend that I'm not glad."

He glared at them, and was about to barge past them and walk the rest of the way up to the school alone when he remembered something.

"Oh, and while I'm here, stop being horrible to Draco!"

This time both of his friends looked angry.

"You can't possibly expect us to –" Hermione said sharply

"He's had to suffer _just _as much as me!" Harry cut her off, his voice getting louder. "He's lost his parents, his friends – and his beliefs! I know it isn't right, but can you imagine what it must have been like, after all those years of being a prat about it, to find out he's not even a proper pureblood after all? It shouldn't matter, but he's been brought up to think it's really important. Can you imagine how his own parents would look at him now, even if they wouldn't already despise him for being Harry Potter?" he paused, letting his eyes settle on each of them a for a moment "The worst thing is that he told me he actually liked you."

Hermione and Ron looked nothing less than stunned at this revelation, but then Hermione caught sight of something behind him and tried to interrupt him. Harry held up a hand to stop her.

"He thought you actually liked him too." Harry spat "I know he was pretending to be me, but I think he was just beginning to like living my life and then you guys showed him that you could never be friends."

"Er – Harry?"

At the sound of that voice, something jolted inside him, and his heart lifted. He turned so fast he was surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. Behind him, standing awkwardly on the dirt track up to the school was Draco, and even though he was in Harry's body, Harry couldn't help thinking he had never looked more endearing.

He wore Harry's Gryffindor scarf wrapped several times around his neck and shoulders, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold and his hair was tufted up from the wind.

"I'm perfectly capable of standing up for myself." Draco said, looking supremely pissed off.

Harry hadn't realized how much he had missed him as a wave of affection coursed through him at that haughty voice.

"You heard him, Harry." Hermione's voice jolted him back to the current situation.

"I don't see why you care anyway, you don't even need to hang around with that slimy little snake anymore." Ron spat, looking completely disgusted.

"Well I _do _care!" Harry shot back "_I _like Draco, and I _like _spending time with him!"

And with that, he turned and began the long walk up to the school with Draco Malfoy, who was clearly trying hard not to smirk.

…ooo000ooo…

Harry had spent most of the train journey – and most of his time at the Manor, if he was honest – thinking of what he would say to Draco when he returned to Hogwarts. He had collected his thoughts about Draco's home, his family, how the Yule Ball went, and those sort of things, and he had been ready to tell Draco all about it.

Instead, what had begun as a happy pause before what should have been a lively conversation had turned into a long and awkward silence.

Harry didn't know what Draco was thinking about, but all of a sudden he couldn't stop thinking about his newly discovered…preferences. Not that he was completely convinced he would never look at a girl again, but he still suddenly felt very awkward, as if Draco would immediately be able to tell somehow.

After another minute or so of silence, Harry was getting irritated. Was Draco really angry at him for telling Ron and Hermione to play nice? He'd had a horrible Christmas holiday so far, and he'd been looking forward to seeing Draco.

He wanted to make him smile.

"So…" Harry ventured suddenly, taking the plunge. "I didn't realize you were a Falmouth Falcons fan."

He was rewarded by a beet red blush, and for once Draco Malfoy had to fumble for words.

…ooo000ooo…

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continuing desire to impress the visitors from Beuxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up, Harry noticed that they were the most stunning that he had yet seen inside the school. Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase, the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries, real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear 'Oh Come All Ye Faithful' sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Several times, Flich the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps of the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude.

Harry spent most of the night before Christmas holed up in his private room in Slytherin, penning letters to Sirius. Draco had been passing them onto him, but now that it was Christmas, Harry was practically wracked with guilt.

He hadn't meant to leave it this long. He should have written letters to his godfather, even if he didn't tell him the truth about everything. He had been sitting hunched over at his desk for a good hour now, a slowly growing mound of screwed up parchment on the floor beside his chair, and the ivory dragon statue watching over the proceedings solemnly.

It was well past midnight before Harry had the final copy he was planning to send to Sirius.

_Dear Sirius,_

_I'm so sorry for not writing to you. I know you must think I forgot about you, or something like that, but the truth is, I've been an awful godson, and I have missed you so much. It's just that recently a lot of stuff has happened to me, and I have been so confused about it all. I haven't been talking to Ron and Hermione either, but I suppose that won't make you feel better._

_First of all, this summer something huge happened to me. It completely turned my life around, and it's not something I can talk about in a letter. I hope I can see you soon._

_Secondly, I made a truce with Draco Malfoy, and we're sort of friends now. I was worried you wouldn't approve but I hope you won't mind. He's nothing like his parents once you get to know him, and in some ways, he reminds me of you. He's been there for me during this really rough time in my life, and I don't think I could have managed without him._

_Next, there's the tournament, though I know you already know about it. If things weren't complicated before, they are ten thousand times worse now. It's been awful. I can't believe I have to compete in this thing when people have died competing. I'm not old enough, I didn't enter my name, but I'm still bound to take part. The first task was touch and go, and the second task isn't going to be easier. _

_I've been so wrapped up in my problems that Ron and Hermione aren't talking to me, not that I blame them. Draco's been helping me with the tasks, but don't tell anyone. _

_The last thing is something else I'm not sure I want to say in a letter, but I hope you won't think I'm a coward for not saying it in person – especially because the next time I see you I will need to tell you about the first thing I was talking about and there will probably be other people there. After I tell you, you probably won't be in the sort of mood to talk about my personal problems, so I think it's probably best I tell you in a letter. I think I'm gay._

_I'm not sure what your reaction will be. I haven't told anyone else about this yet. I have the impression that purebloods can be weird about this sort of thing, but I also know that you're not really like other purebloods. I hope you don't hate me._

_Anyway, please tell me what you've been up to. How's Buckbeak?_

_I'm sorry I haven't written,_

_Harry_

He knew the ending was a little weak, but really, what was he supposed to say to end the letter on a light note after dropping a bombshell like that? Hoping that Sirius would forgive him for his silence, Harry attached the letter to Hedwig's leg. Draco had sent her to him earlier that night, and she seemed to somehow realize who Harry was, because she had spent the past few hours nipping at his clothing and preening, making herself at home in his rooms. There was a room slightly above ground level further up the stairs, the window of which Harry intended to release Hedwig from, although he would have to be careful the other Slytherins didn't see him with Harry Potter's distinctive and easily recognized owl.

…oo000ooo…

"Wake up!"

Harry sat bolt upright in bed, fumbling for his wand under his pillows with one hand, and scrabbling for his glasses with the other.

"It's me, idiot!" Draco said, and Harry relaxed, belatedly realizing he didn't wear glasses anymore.

"Whatya doin' here?" he said blearily.

Draco was standing beside his bed, heavily laden with presents and a huge smile on his face, telling Harry that he was either very drunk or in an extremely good mood. He was in his pyjamas, but the Gryffindor scarf was present, as always. Harry couldn't help wondering if Draco liked being a Gryffindor more than he made out.

"I thought we could open out presents together?" Draco said brightly, setting down his presents on the floor and plopping on the bed beside Harry. "I can't be bothered with Weasel and Granger-"

"Back to that are we?" Harry said wearily

"-and I know you probably wouldn't want to be alone at Christmas."

"Isn't it a bit early?" Harry yawned, glancing at the clock on his bedside table.

"It's half past seven!" Draco said indignantly "I never get up this late at Christmas, and the other Gryffindors are all up!"

"Were they – alright to you?" Harry asked tentatively, not needing to specify that he meant Ron and Hermione.

Draco shrugged moodily "They pretty much ignored me and told me to give these to you." He jerked his head at the pile of presents.

"Ah." Harry said awkwardly. "Well, I got you something."

"I got you something too. But let's get through all this first."

For the first time, Harry noticed the mountain of presents awaiting him at the foot of his bed.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"You get this every year?"

"Yes." Draco looked slightly embarrassed. Harry's pile was tiny compared to the many boxes and parcels addressed to Draco, and they were all expertly wrapped with thick, heavy wrapping paper and satin ribbons.

"Well," Harry gestured at them "they're for you, and I know you'll have to keep them in here, but you should unwrap them."

"Thank Merlin!" Draco burst out, as if he'd been holding it in, and rushed over to the pile, grinning like a maniac.

Harry's presents included a pair of odd socks, obviously personally knitted, from Dobby, a book called _Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland _from Hermione, a bulging bag of Dungbombs from Ron, which he wasn't entirely sure was supposed to be complimentary and a handy penknife with attachments to unlock any lock, and undo any knot from Sirius. He stopped there, feeling even more guilty. He'd only sent Sirius a selection of Honeydukes sweets.

"You alright? Get something nasty?" Draco asked, and Harry looked up and couldn't help smiling.

Draco was practically swimming in a shredded mass of wrapping paper, surrounded by trinkets and toys and looking ecstatic.

"No I'm fine. What did you get?"

"I'm not even half done!" Draco said happily. "Mother got me a shed load of new clothes, but she also got me these." He gestured at several moving model dragons of various sizes and species which were wading through the wrapping paper puffing steam and smoke. "And look, Pansy got me a new dragon book!" he held up a heavy, red leather affair which had _True Stories of Dragon Wrangling _printed in gold leaf on the front.

"I take it you like dragons?" Harry said wryly, but Draco ignored him.

"Father sent me these," he gestured at a pile of books distastefully, and Harry could almost feel the Dark Magic pouring off the stack of moldering old tomes "and Blaise got me tickets for the Falcons." He paused at this, and Harry just knew he was thinking about his comment from the day before. Sure enough, Draco was now quite red. "Anyway…" he returned to his unwrapping hastily.

The next present Harry unwrapped was from the Dursleys; a single tissue. This was an all time low, but he didn't pay it any mind. The biggest present was a massive box of assorted sweets from Hagrid. There was also his usual Weasley jumper, and a large quantity of Mrs Weasley's home made mince pies.

Harry sat contently munching on a pie, watching Draco unwrap the last of his presents, which appeared to be an impressive and gleaming set of black dragon skin dueling armor. Harry was more than a little envious.

"Ready for my present?" Draco asked, once he had disentangled himself from the many buckles of the breast-plate, which had turned out to be so fiddly that he'd given up halfway through trying it on.

"Yeah." Harry couldn't help but feel nervous. He had been really quite stuck at first when he was Christmas shopping for Draco, and he was sure Draco would give him a much nicer present.

"Close your eyes." Draco commanded, and Harry did so, smiling broadly as he felt something large and heavy being set on his knees.

"Open up!"

Harry looked down. The present was wrapped in the most garishly Gryffindor wrapping paper he had ever seen. The ribbons were red and gold, with spangled stars and glitter throughout, and the paper had small gold snitches and brooms dotted over it.

"You're really good at wrapping." Harry said ruefully, picking at the spello-tape carefully.

Draco slapped his hand away. "Harry Potter, if you don't rip that open properly I'll take it right back!"

The present really was beautifully wrapped, and the packaging had to have cost a few Galleons at least but Harry did as he asked, although he couldn't help wincing.

"A book?" Harry asked, confused. He turned the large black leather book over, searching for a title.

"Open it." Draco urged, sounding nervous.

Harry did so, and gasped.

"I thought that – well, I hope you don't mind, but I saw _your_ photo album, with your mum and dad, and I thought-"

"It's perfect."

"I thought you should see, they weren't always how they are now, and –"

"Draco-"

"-thought you should have them, just to see what your childhood-"

"Draco!"

Draco stopped talking and looked sheepish.

"I love it."

Harry leafed through the pages, tears threatening. It was a photo album. The first few pages were for Lucius and Narcissa; as a teenaged couple holding hands, Lucius tall and proud, but with a look of youthful innocence on his face that Harry didn't recall seeing in person, and Narcissa, much younger, probably only fourteen, blushing and smiling as she held his arm. Next, a wedding photograph, Narcissa looking very young still, but blissfully happy. Lucius smiled down on her warmly.

"They were in love, once." Draco murmured, leaning over his shoulder.

A very pregnant Narcissa sitting alone on a futon followed, but from the way she was smiling Harry was sure Lucius was the one taking the photograph. After that, there were a whole host of mother and baby photographs, Draco – _me_, Harry thought – at first nothing more than a pink, screwed up face, then eventually a chubby toddler with platinum curls and a gummy smile. Narcissa looked utterly enchanted with Draco in every one. There was only one photograph with Lucius and Draco together at that time, and Harry couldn't take his eyes off it. Lucius was sitting on an armchair, poised regally as baby Draco squirmed in his lap, reaching for his father's cane which Lucius was holding far out of his reach. Lucius had the hint of a genuine smile on his face, and his eyes were twinkling, but it was still nothing like the motherly warmth in Narcissa's photographs.

Turning the pages, Harry was greeted with more and more family photos of Draco and his parents. About halfway through, he paused, frowning. He turned the pages back, and stopped at one of Draco aged around five. The little boy was holding a toy dragon and running across a room Harry recognized from the Manor; it was the drawing room where he had first met Narcissa. He was clearly shouting and making a lot of noises. On the next page, little Draco was alone, and he stared up at the camera with a blank face, although every now and again his expression twitched or he glanced impatiently at something off camera. The pages after that were the same. No matter what Draco was doing; from trying his first broom to working with his Piano tutor, his expression was curiously neutral, and his eyes stared out from the photograph hauntingly.

"Why did you stop smiling?" Harry asked quietly

"That's when Father took up my upbringing." Draco replied with a small smile "He showed me how to hide my emotions. It's an important skill."

Harry didn't reply. He continued looking through the album, feeling disturbed. He was about to put it down when Draco stopped him.

"Look at the last page – it's my favorite." He murmured.

Turning to the inside of the back cover, Harry stared at the photo there.

At first he thought it was of himself and Draco; a copy of the photograph he had been sent over Christmas, but when he looked closer at the dancing couple, he saw that it was Lucius and Narcissa.

"Is that – are they in the Room of Requirement?" Harry asked, confused.

"No." Draco replied "I just pictured that room when I asked for a room to practice dancing in. The room conjured it up perfectly. Look closer though, it really is a beautiful picture."

Harry watched the couple spin and twirl. Narcissa moved like a ghost, flitting across the floor, her face bright with happiness, and Lucius lead her in the dance like a gallant knight, or a king. It seemed like a fairytale.

"It's like our photo." Harry said.

"I hoped you would see that."

Harry looked up.

Draco was gazing at the photo, a soft expression on his face, and when he felt Harry looking he looked up too.

_Would it be weird to kiss Draco when he looks like me?_ Their faces were inches apart, and Harry wanted to show him how much this meant to him. Draco really couldn't have done a better job…

"So can I get my present yet?" Draco asked suddenly, and Harry laughed, the moment was gone.

"Here you go." He passed him a small, square package. "It's nowhere near as good as yours." he said hurriedly, suddenly wishing he could snatch it back. What _had_ he been thinking?

"I'll love it." Draco assured him, and laid into the package as if it had murdered his pet kneazle. When the last shreds of the wrapping paper had fallen to the ground, Draco was holding a small wooden box, which he opened carefully.

"I thought it was something we had in common." Harry said anxiously, by way of explanation.

A golden snitch fluttered out of Draco's hands.

"I got your initials on it," Harry continued, heart lightened at the smile on Draco's face "and it flies at three times the usual snitch speed – I thought it would be more of a challenge for us. We could have a proper seeker's game."

"Thank you." Draco said, watching it fly around the room "Can we try it out later?"

"Yule Ball." Harry reminded him, suddenly feeling glum.

"Oh yes. I forgot." Draco frowned "Definitely tomorrow though."

"Draco?"

"Hmm?" Draco was eyeing the box of sweets from Hagrid.

Harry shuffled closer. "Thanks for the photo album. It meant a lot. It was perfect."

Draco looked up very quickly when he felt Harry's breath on his face. For a moment he looked completely shocked at finding Harry so close, then he suddenly looked nervous.

"Harry?"

Harry leant forward and brushed his lips against Draco's cheek. "Shall we go down to the Great Hall?" His heart was beating in his throat.

"Uh." Draco stuttered, his eyes locked with Harry's. Then he looked away, and broke into a stunning smile. "Alright." He said, barely managing to get his smiling lips around the two syllables, and he couldn't seem to meet Harry's eyes again either.

…ooo000ooo…

Christmas lunch was magnificent, and included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbages Wizarding Crackers. There was no Christmas tea today, as the ball included a feast, so at seven o'clock Harry began to change into his dress robes that Narcissa had bought for him. They were a rather severe looking black affair, and at the last moment Harry changed his mind and tugged on a navy-blue set of robes instead. They were just as nice as the set he had worn to the Malfoy ball, and they made his eyes look good, he decided.

The Slytherin common room looked strange, full of people wearing different colors instead of the usual mass of black. Pansy greeted him in frilly robes of pale pink, and gave him a kiss on the cheek before he led her out of the common room and to the hall.

Blaise Zabini winked at him, a younger girl with blond ringlets holding his hand, but with a rather handsome Slytherin sixth year pressing his lips on his cheek before leaving with his own date. This gave Harry something to think about. Even if Blaise was openly gay, he was fairly discreet about it with the rest of the school – or perhaps just because the ball was a very proper event.

The Entrance Hall was packed with students too, all milling around waiting for eight o'clock, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those people who were meeting people from different houses were edging through the crowd, trying to find each other. Harry thought he could see Ron and Draco with the Patil twins, but he couldn't see Hermione anywhere.

The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum was at the front of the party, accompanied by – Harry gaped, it was Hermione!

But she didn't look like Hermione at all. She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy, but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She was wearing robes of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow – or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back. She was also smiling – rather nervously, it was true, but she looked utterly beautiful.

Over the heads of the Durmstrang students, he saw that an area of lawn right in front of the castle had been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights – meaning hundreds of actual living fairies were sitting in the rose bushes that had been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seemed to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.

Then Professor McGonagall's voice called, "Champions over here, please!"

Harry watched Draco and Padma move forward through the crowd with a touch of jealousy at how they held hands. The rest of the school followed after them.

Once everyone was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall told the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and follow her. They did so, and Harry applauded with everyone else as they started walking up towards a large round table at the top of the hall, where the judges were sitting.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy covering the starry black ceiling. The house tables had vanished; instead there were about a hundred smaller, latern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people. Harry took a seat beside Pansy, though all the while his eye was on the main table where Draco was pulling out a chair for Padma.

The feast was actually very enjoyable; Pansy was reveling in the opportunity to dress so girly and she clearly loved parties. She was as loud as ever, but for once she left Harry relatively alone, instead choosing to talk to Daphne Greengrass's younger sister, who turned out to be Blaise's young date. Theo Nott wasted no time in passing out hangover cures, each Slytherin accepting their phial with a solemn nod. Clearly Slytherins knew how to party hard. It wasn't until halfway through the meal that Adrian Pucey finally stopped sending furtive glances towards the teacher's table and whipped out a bottle of Firewhisky, which he upended over their punch. A boy Harry only knew as Vaisey gave the concoction a quick stir, cackling wildly.

Some time later, the latern at their table suddenly went out.

"What's happening?" Goyle grunted suddenly, and Harry stared at him in shock. The boy hadn't spoken all year.

"It's not just us," Daphne's sister piped up "they've all gone out."

The others all turned in their seats, and indeed the hall was darkened apart from the dance floor, where the champions were getting ready to lead the dance.

Harry scowled as the music started up, and Draco and Padma made an utter spectacle of themselves.

"Who knew Potter could dance?" Pansy exclaimed from beside him, looking shocked.

"What an idiot." Harry replied, as Draco twirled Padma around and then dipped her so that her hair brushed the floor to the amazed gasps of the onlookers.

_He never did that with me, _he thought sullenly.He chose to ignore the fact that he would have looked ridiculous. Other people were now joining he champions on the dance floor.

Suddenly Pansy was tugging at his arm, and he allowed her to lead him to the dance floor like a prized pet poodle. Remembering her antics at the Malfoy ball, he took her through the motions of the simpler waltz this time. Hermione and Victor Krum were dancing nearby, and Harry tried to give her an encouraging smile as soon as he thought Pansy wasn't watching, but then Fred Weasley and Angelina Johnson ploughed through the dancers between them, obstructing his view.

"Idiots." Pansy sniffed.

Harry endured three more dances, then managed to shrug Pansy off.

"I need some air." He made to push past her when she tried to stop him.

"But Drakey-"

"I'm feeling sick." She leapt out of the way.

As he left the Hall for the grounds, Harry watched her corner Nott for a dance.

"Going outside?" said a voice as he passed the doors.

Harry jumped, nearly falling down the front steps, and Draco's face loomed out of the darkness.

"I've had enough of parties." Harry said truthfully.

"I quite enjoyed it." Draco said conversationally as they passed into the rose grotto. "I like to dance."

"Yeah well you definitely didn't hold back with Padma." Harry muttered.

Draco stopped. "Jealous are we?" he said playfully.

"Piss off." Harry said, frowning. He walked further into the deserted rose grotto; it was still too early into the ball for the other students to have left the hall. A cool hand slipped into Harry's and he started.

"Draco?"

The fairly lights were too dim for Harry to see Draco's expression until he grasped his other hand too, and they were face to face.

"Er-"

"Would you like to dance with me? Properly?" Draco waited for a reply, his nose inches from Harry's.

Harry cast an anxious look towards the oak front doors, where light spilled onto the grass.

Draco took his silence for assent, and slipped his hand along Harry's arm and onto his lower back. They were standing very close now.

Draco stepped forward, and Harry stepped back, and suddenly, they were dancing. Not quite at the Yule Ball, but close enough. Together.

The music was clearly audible, and they had the fairy grotto to themselves. This song was a slow one, and Draco was holding Harry closer than he had before. As their cheeks touched, Harry let his chin fall onto his partner's shoulder and closed his eyes.

_A/N: So what does everyone think then? Please review .I will now be giving house points for reviews, as inspired by The Lonely God With A Box (interesting user name, but a bit of a mouthful!). So, review, and say what house you're in!_

_If anyone's interested in another Drarry fic by me, and you've already read Improbable vs Impossible, try Playing With Fire. I've just uploaded it, and no reviews so far but I've had a lot of follows and favorites. _


	19. 19

_Discalimer: Nope, I own nothing._

"-and Harry even said he liked Mother."

"Draco, will you please remain silent, this will only take a minute!"

Harry snorted as Snape carefully measured several strands of Draco's dark hair before dropping them into the small cauldron bubbling on the table and stirring vigorously. Draco had spent the last fifteen minutes relaying every detail Harry had told him about his experience at Malfoy Manor, and Snape clearly had no interest.

"I'm glad you liked Mother, Harry. Some people find her a bit cold, but-"

"Draco!" Snape said warningly.

"Just wait 'till you meet the Dursleys." Harry began mischievously, winking at Draco, who sniggered as a muscle began to tic on Snape's forehead. "They'll probably have you sleeping back in the cupboard under the stairs if they find out who you really are!"

Draco looked confused, and Harry winced. He hadn't meant to say anything about the cupboard, he didn't need anyone's pity.

"What are you talking about?" Snape asked, and Harry sighed.

"Never mind."

Snape stopped stirring the cauldron and fixed Harry with a heavy glare which told him he wasn't going anywhere until he had the truth.

"They had me sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs until I started going to Hogwarts. I know it sounds bad, but it wasn't really." Harry muttered.

"You slept in a cupboard?" Draco asked incredulously.

"Don't say it like that." Harry said uncomfortably "It wasn't that bad." He repeated.

"Mr Potter, as much as I detest you, I have to disagree." Snape interrupted, "A cupboard is no place for a child. Why didn't you have a proper bedroom?"

Harry looked up in surprise. Snape's face eyes were glittering in the same way they might if Neville had just exploded a cauldron, and his lips were tight and angry-looking.

"The Dursleys didn't like me much." Harry shrugged

"And so they made you sleep in a cupboard." Snape said slowly, setting down a ladle and giving Harry his full attention.

"There was room for a mattress. It wasn't so bad." Harry said defensively. "I didn't mind." he lied.

Immediately Snape glowered. "I know when I am being lied to, Mr Potter."

Harry shuffled and looked at his feet. He didn't feel comfortable talking about this to Snape of all people. He didn't care if the Dursleys got into trouble; he knew how they had treated him wasn't right, but he also knew that if even if they were punished for his upbringing he would still be sent to live with them every summer. Why make things harder on himself? They certainly wouldn't thank him for snitching on them.

After another moment of silence, Snape spoke again.

"If you won't talk about the matter, there is little I can do."

Harry opened his mouth to say that he was perfectly fine, thank you, but Snape held up a hand and cut him off.

"You can deny there is a problem, Potter, but my instincts tell me otherwise. Do remember, however, that Draco's housemates show loyalty to me in particular for my discretion. And despite popular opinion, I do not offer it to Slytherins alone – although others are less likely to ask for it." Snape locked eyes with him for a second, and Harry dropped his eyes to the floor, mouth slightly open in shock. Why was Snape suddenly being so nice?

"Sev helps a lot of kids with problems at home." Draco said quietly, as they left the room later. He frowned a little. "You know, you could tell me things too. I wouldn't tell anyone."

"There's nothing to tell." Harry said firmly, trying not to look guilty.

Draco looked at him skeptically, but let the matter slide.

After a few moments of walking through the empty corridors without speaking, Harry felt Draco's fingers lacing into his own.

It was the first time they had touched in that way since the ball the previous night, and Harry was hard pressed not to show his relief. Christmas day had seemed far too good to be true, and he'd begun to wonder if he'd imagined it all. He glanced at Draco, and felt a wave of happiness course through him when he saw he was smiling softly at the ground as they walked.

…ooo000ooo…

"Draco?"

A testy looking third year Slytherin was at his elbow.

"Piss off." Harry replied, and hunched back over his Arithmancy homework. He'd really been struggling with his class work, even with Draco meeting him for study sessions. Professor Vector had noticed too, which was saying something for the distant teacher who preferred to largely ignore her class while she lectured. He'd been hoping to catch up over the holidays, but classes would be starting in a few days and he had barely made any progress at all.

"Malfoy, there's someone out in the corridor asking for you!" This time it was a different boy, and he sounded so irritated that Harry huffed and forced himself to his feet, leaving his homework strewn across the table.

"What is it?" He drawled lazily, approaching and leaning against the common room entrance.

"Harry?"

Harry choked, his hand flying to his chest in shock as his godfather suddenly stepped into view, looking back at him looking worried and angry.

"Not here!" someone hissed, and Harry's eyes landed on Draco, who was standing behind Sirius looking upset "I tried to tell him Harry, but-"

"Quiet you!" Sirius snapped "Harry, can we talk?"

Harry looked over his shoulder. The other Slytherins weren't looking to see who was there for him, but they could look over at any moment.

Sirius looked as wild as ever, his jaw covered with stubble and his eyes wide with emotion, but his now close cropped hair and cleaner skin made it hard for anyone to identify him with the ruffian in the _Daily Prophet_ who went by the name of Sirius Black.

"Not here." Harry repeated Draco's words, averting his eyes to the floor. Why was Sirius here? Was he here to shout at Harry because of what he had told him in the letter? Cleary _someone _had told him that he and Draco had switched bodies.

"Let's go to the Room of Requirement." Draco said, sounding relieved. "Harry, I tried to tell him I'd bring you to him if he just waited, but-"

There was a loud bark, and Draco jumped as Sirius gave him a warning growl, now in his animagus form.

The rest of the walk was in silence.

_Who told him? _Harry fumed, then he bit his lip. _More importantly, how is he going to react? He doesn't look happy, but its not as bad as it could be..._

For Sirius looked far calmer than Harry had ever envisioned him. He had snapped at Draco a few times, but although there had been anger in his dark expression, Harry couldn't yet tell if it was directed at him or not.

It seemed to take hours rather than minutes to reach the seventh floor from the dungeons. Harry couldn't help feeling more and more agitated as Sirius trotted along ahead of them without looking back, his back stiff and his tail giving an twitch every minute or so. Draco was walking fast to try to keep up, and Harry followed them blindly, wondering if Sirius had permission from the headmaster to be at the school. He doubted it.

By time they reached the Room of Requirement, Harry was feeling substantially more apprehensive, and he darted inside after Draco while Sirius, back in his human form, held the door open for them.

The room had transformed into a sort of living room, although with a garishly Gryffindor scarlet and yellow colour scheme – it was almost like a small version of the common room. The space that Harry would usually expect a television to be in was filled by a large fireplace with a cheerily crackling fire which exuded a warmth which was most welcome in the Scottish winter. Looking around Harry had mixed feelings of nostalgia for Gryffindor, and an oncoming headache from months of being enveloped in cool Slytherin colors. Despite how fond Draco seemed of wearing Harry's old house scarf, the room had clearly been summoned by Sirius.

"Well, sit down then." Sirius said, gesturing at Harry who had been gazing at the room for the last few moments. He blinked stupidly and moved to sit in a squashy red arm chair. Sirius took the two seater sofa opposite him, while Draco sequestered himself in another armchair closer to the fire, facing the other two but a little further away.

Harry sat uncomfortable while Sirius looked him over, his mouth slightly downturned.

"Well kiddo, when were you going to tell me?"

Harry looked at his shoes, but the waiting silence demanded a reply. "I had a lot going on. I didn't want to tell anyone anything."

"_Why?"_

Harry looked up at the broken tone, and was struck to the core with a sudden deep shame as Sirius stared back at him, wide eyes filled with pain.

"Harry, I'm a wanted criminal. I can't be w_ith _you, but I've tried to help you and be there for you as much as I can-"

Harry closed his eyes, willfully fighting off the unexpected tears which threatened. "Sirius-" he cut in "It's nothing you've done, I'm just- just used to doing things alone. And – and I know you hate dark wizards…" he tailed off, wondering if he should have mentioned his original misgivings concerning Sirius.

"And you thought I wouldn't support you?" Sirius demanded, looking more upset "Did you realize that Dumbledore told me about this, that I knew already?"

"No, I –"

"He means right from the start, Harry." Draco cut in quietly, "When they first found out about-"

Harry felt sick. This whole time, Sirus had known…

"Shut up." Sirius snapped, "Harry-"

"Hang on," Harry said, stricken at his tone, looking from Draco's expression – as if he had been slapped – to Sirius "You do have a problem then? With Draco?"

Sirius gestured dismissively "That's not important right now."

"No," Harry said, aware that his voice was unnaturally high "it is important. To me."

He didn't look over at Draco, who was trying to catch his eye. He fixed his eyes on Sirius, who was now looking uncomfortable.

"I don't have a problem with you being gay, Harry." Sirius said "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't dabbled in that sort of thing when I was younger," he paused for a roughish grin which seemed very out of place in the current atmosphere. "It didn't take much to understand, from your letter, that you and _him _are involved, but - well I grew up in his sort of family-"

"Yes!" Harry exclaimed, suddenly vehement "Draco is like you – he's different from his family, he's not Dark-"

"Harry, you don't need to fight my battles-" Draco began, then fell silent at a glare from Sirius.

"Stop it!" Harry said to his godfather, begin to feel quite distraught. He'd worried about Sirius reacting like this, yes, but he hadn't actually thought-

"Look, kiddo." Sirus sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger "you're not going to like what I'm going to say – either of you. But hear me out."

"I understand you two are probably mad for each other. And that's alright – but Harry, I care about you and don't want your heart getting broken."

"Draco won't-"

"Listen!" barked Sirius, then settled down again. "I've been where you are – not with a _Slytherin,_" he growled the word like it was a curse "but regardless, it didn't end well. I've been in a lot of relationships, Harry, and I've went through relationships through knowing my friends. I saw how they ended. Some worked, some didn't. But this-" he looked between Harry and Draco, a wretched expression on his face, "it can't last."

Before both boys could begin to protest he continued. "You boys have nothing in common. You're only together because you're in a high pressure situation – Harry, apart from all this other rubbish, you've just realized you might be gay, and Draco is the only one you're inclined to trust enough to test this out on. Even if this _relationship _was based on something more solid – say a friendship, or a similar background, it can't work. Is Draco going to give up his family for you?" he paused for the words to sink in "Are you going to fight with Ron and Hermione for ever?" He looked at Harry for a long moment, and Harry tried to formulate an answer which encapsulated all of his disappointment and indignation. Before he had got his tongue around the words he needed to say, Sirius started talking again.

"Best give it up now, before this damages Draco's relationship with his parents, or yours with your friends Harry. When this does end, it'll be messy."

"He doesn't know." Draco's voice cut through the tension like a knife, with a marveling air as if he was just realizing something. "Harry – he doesn't realize that we're, that –"

Harry stared at Draco, who was trying to communicate something to him with his eyes.

"What?" Sirius demanded.

Draco huffed impatiently, then frowned as he tried to pick his words carefully. "Harry – tell him who we are. Who we really have been. You know. Now that we know, we can't really turn back."

"_What_?" Sirius demanded, now looking very confused and apprehensive, while Harry stared at Draco uncomprehendingly. "What do you mean, you can't turn back now that you know? As soon as Snivellus makes the cure-"

Sirius was still talking, but to Harry it was just background noise as he realized what Draco had been trying to convey to him.

Whatever Dumbledore had told his godfather, he hadn't told him the full story. Either he had left it to Harry to tell, or he had never gotten around to it – Harry could well imagine Sirius storming off prematurely, thinking he had heard the worst. Maybe Dumbledore had chickened out of telling the full story, perhaps he had sensed that Sirius would go absolutely ballistic if he knew.

Whatever the reason, Sirius didn't realize that Harry was _really _Draco Malfoy.

"I-." Harry stopped, throat dry. "Sirius, this isn't a temporary body switch."

Sirius frowned. "Well…no. I know that. It was meant to be permanent, right? I think that was the gist of it. But Snape-"

"Were you paying attention when Professor Dumbledore explained things?" Harry said bluntly

Sirius looked sheepish. "Well…I was a little upset at the time. But I think I got most of it." He paused, then looked embarrassed. "I may have rushed off to go and see you." He immediately spotted the resignation on Harry's face. "What did I miss? I tried to go and visit you, but they stopped me, said it was too dangerous. But I figured if there was anything more, they would have-"

"Sirius, this isn't a body switch at all. It's a glamour that stopped working."

Silence. Sirius looked lost, confusion written all over his face as he tried to figure it out.

"I was swapped by Lucius Malfoy with Draco as a baby – I won't go into details, I'll leave that to the Headmaster - but long story short, he wasn't able to get his son back. He had to leave the glamours on." Harry ploughed ahead, eyes tightly shut as if he could ward off Sirius's oncoming reaction. "He _obliviated_ himself so that he would forget – he couldn't live knowing he had Harry Potter instead of his real son. So no one knew. The glamours began to fade off this summer."

He opened his eyes. Sirius's eyes were bugging out.

"Sirius, I've been Draco Malfoy all along. I just never knew it."

…ooo000ooo…

"Harry. Harry!" Draco broke into a run before Harry could get too far ahead. He made a grab for his arm, but was roughly shaken off.

He stopped abruptly, feeling as if Harry had socked him in the gut. "You're not- "he said, his voice strained "you're not _listening _to him, are you? About – us?"

Harry stopped, pivoting on his heel. Draco was shaken by the devastation in his eyes, Harry was trembling slightly. He had just opened his mouth when several people barrelled around the corner.

"Harry!" Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas chorused. The group consisted of all of the fourth year Gryffindors – Patil, Brown and the boys from the dorm, who were rallying around Draco's shoulder's eyeing 'Draco Malfoy' suspiciously, who only Ron and Hermione were hovering uncertainly beside.

"Is 'ol ferret features giving you trouble?" Finnigan carried on obliviously, clapping a hand on Draco's shoulder.

Hermione's sharp eye were darting between the two frozen figures, and suddenly Lavender Brown piped up "Malfoy? Are you alright? You look strange."

Harry seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, though as he seemed to come to life, tears were quite obviously brimming on his pale eyelashes. "Going – practice." He muttered. "Snitch." His eyes settled on Draco before whipping around and fleeing down the corridor.

"Weird bloke." Finnigan noted. "Hey Harry-!"

But Draco was already on Harry's tail, Ron and Hermione right behind him if the sounds of clattering shoes were anything to go by.

"What's wrong with Harry?" Hermione demanded

"What did you do?!"

Draco ignored Ron and hissed at Hermione "Go away. He's upset because his godfather can't accept that he's actually the spawn of evil."

"Harry's not-" Ron began furiously.

"Oh really?" Draco snapped back venomously, halting for a moment to glare at them both. "Well maybe you should go to the Room of Requirement and straighten that out with him while I try and pick up the pieces!"

"Padfoot – did he really - ?" Ron looked shocked

"We should be going to see Harry, not you!" Hermione said angrily

"Well you're not coming!" Draco retorted, turning and continuing the chase. Behind him, he heard Ron saying "Actually I'd like to speak to Sirius. He'd better not have-"

But the words faded into the distance as Draco raced down the stairs.

...ooo000ooo...

Draco had to search the skies before he could even attempt to catch Harry.

His Nimbus 2001 was as brilliant as ever, but it was no match for a Firebolt. In his grief, Harry had taken his usual broom instead of the Nimbus, and Draco had a hard time of it spotting the distant blurred dot in the sky, which was pointed towards the stratosphere and fast fading.

Angling his broom and shooting off, Draco prayed fervently that Harry would slow down before he succumbed to the thin air that he would soon be exposed to up there. He didn't fancy his chances at catching a dead weight from so high up.

The air was freezing, and it only got worse as he zoomed higher, his eyes fixed on that blurred figure which thankfully seemed to be growing larger. The wind scraped at his cheeks endlessly like icy sandpaper, and his face and fingers were numb.

"Harry!" he croaked out hoarsely, though he was still nowhere near enough to be heard.

Up ahead though, Harry turned and Draco could see the shape of his face now, though a fine drizzle was now beginning to soak him though and his glasses fast became a nuisance.

Harry was approaching him, and Draco pulled up a little so that they didn't crash into one another. He could barely see at all now, and the air around him was frigid, the stormy clouds only a short distance away.

"Can we go down?" Draco croaked when Harry came closer. "I can't see."

The Harry-figure nodded shakily, and they began to descend slowly together.

"Give him a chance to think." Draco said as soon as he was a comfortable distance away from the thunderous-looking clouds. "He was shocked, anyone would be. We were."

"He hates me." Harry whispered, and Draco struggled to catch it as the wind blew his voice away.

"He didn't say a word. He just sat there, you don't know what he was feeling, apart from being really, really surprised."

Harry didn't reply, but merely sped up slightly, more angled towards the ground.

"Are we okay?" Draco shouted after him, wiping his sleeve over his glasses and finding it did nothing for his vision.

Below him, Harry slowed up, and what Draco got to his side, he felt Harry's freezing hand gripping his over the broom handle.

"I don't care about what he said!" Harry said angrily, his voice raw. "I hope you didn't listen to that rubbish. He knows _nothing_ about us."

Draco felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest.

"Well at least we learnt one thing today." He said, peering foggily in Harry's direction as they landed

"What's that?"

"There's definitely an 'us'. I'd been wondering since Christmas day."

Getting off his broom, he took off his glasses and did his best to wipe them properly on his robes. When he looked back up, Harry still looked miserable, but he was smiling weakly.

"Me too. I don't know what to call it."

Draco shrugged.

"Well that's alright then." Harry said, sounding overly weary, but satisfied.

"Harry!"

Harry closed his eyes. "Hermione." He sighed, though she was still some distance away, running towards them.

"Do you want me to head them off?" Draco asked, beginning to feel better already.

"No." Harry turned to face the oncoming pair.

Hermione skidded to a halt, Ron jogging after her arrived second. She bit her lip, looking nervously at Harry.

"I know you probably want space Harry, but we just wanted to let you know Sirius isn't angry at you."

"He's not?" Harry looked up, eyes clinging to hers like a drowning man.

"No." She said, although she looked a bit guilty.

"He didn't say anything other than he needed to think, mate." Ron cut in, his voice stormy

"He said he'd had a huge shock and he needed to think." Hermione echoed.

"But he didn't say he wasn't angry?. Harry finished, resigned.

"He sounded upset – shocked. That's all, Harry. Don't jump to conclusions." Hermione said gently.

"She's right." Draco nudged Harry's hand, to show he'd hold it if the others weren't there. "You could be getting all worked up for nothing. Let's go in."

After a moment, Harry nodded, and they all began to move back up to the castle.

Draco was gratified when Ron dropped behind the others, gesturing at him to do the same and muttered "Don't tell Harry, but I got Sirius a good one on the nose." He mimed the action "Just to speed up his 'thinking'."

Draco smirked in satisfaction. "Granger must have hit the roof."

"Actually," Ron said ruefully "I should have held back. If I had, she would have got to him first. Bastard would have deserved it."

_So, just so you don't mention it in the reviews, yes I know there's probably typos all over this chapter. I wrote it and posted it immediately. Something about the timing and __**JAA-NE's**__ review combined made me want to put it up NOW! I'll go over it and tidy up tomorrow. Got work at 4am, and it's 10pm right now, so I'm going to bed. Night!_


	20. 20

_A/N: Um. Okay. I messed up. The Room of Requirement shouldn't have been discovered yet, it doesn't come in until OoTP. But we're going to pretend it has been found already, okay? _

"Potter I will not tolerate your presence if you are going to brood." Snape said finally, slamming his ladle onto the table top.

Harry looked up incredulously "I'm sitting still, being quiet! You're always telling me to, and now that I am you want me to _stop_?!"

Once again they were sequestered in the potions lab; this time however Draco was not there and Snape was clearly unhappy with being left in Harry's presence overly long. Usually only Draco made a point of dropping in on the professor while he worked on their potion, and Harry would only be convinced to come along occasionally.

However he had felt overcrowded in the Slytherin common room and yet still he didn't want to be alone. Draco was nowhere to be found and Harry didn't want to share his misery with Ron and Hermione. And so here he was.

"You are not sitting still," Snape replied, "you are fidgeting. And you are not being quiet, I can hear your muttering from here. If you would just go and t_ell _Black all that rubbish –"

"Don't." Harry said warningly. Though he would never admit it, he didn't mind Snape so much these days, but he knew that he woudn't be able to stand him starting on Sirius like he always did.

Snape shot Harry a contemptuous look, and continued speaking. "You cannot expect the man to act like a mature-"

"Shut up!" Harry said, leaping to his feet, fists clenched.

Snape's eyes darkened and he too rose up. "Silence. Ten points from Gryffindor. Show some respect-"

"Why should I?" Harry said viciously, his depression only fuelling his anger. "And _I'll_l show respect when you do!"

"You haven't even _heard_ what I was going to say-"

"I don't want to!" Harry said childishly. Why had he thought coming here was a good idea?

"Sit down Mr. Potter." Snape snarled, stalking over to him, robes flapping. "You w_ill _listen to me. Obviously no one else has explained this to you."

"Explained what?" Harry said sullenly, sinking down but keeping his eyes fixed angrily on the professor.

"One cannot expect to spend thirteen years in Azkaban prison and return whole."

"I'm not going to sit here and listen to you insult Sirius!" Harry snapped, getting to his feet again.

"_Sit_ Potter! Ten more points from Gryffindor."

"I'm not a dog, don't tell me to sit! And I'm not in Gryffindor!"

"Then don't act like one." Snape replied caustically "On both counts. Now listen to me. I am not insulting Black, I am trying to explain something to you which the Headmaster has clearly not seen fit to."

That got Harry's attention.

"As I was saying – no one comes out of Azkaban without their mind being affected."

"Sirius isn't crazy!"

"I did not say that he was."

"Besides, he avoided the affect of the dementors by keeping in his animagus form." Harry said triumphantly.

"So he did." Snape arched an eyebrow. "And what effect do you think being a dog for thirteen years had on him?"

"Sirius is fine!" he said defensively. Snape ignored him.

"During the animagus transformation, a witch or wizard can keep their human mind. Without this ability, animagi would forget they were really human and would go about their animal lives until their death if not rescued. However, as you say, Black was not affected by the dementors whilst in his dog form."

"So?" Harry said suspiciously

"So what do you make of the fact that dementors attack human minds. Or souls – whatever distinction you make between the two. Animagi are affected by dementors _usually_."

Harry frowned. "What are you trying to say?" His curiosity was peaked now.

"I'm saying that the only way that what Black did was possible, was by deeply suppressing his human mind. Of course, he could not have done it completely, as he wanted to be able to transform back to his usual charming self when human visitors to the prison passed – which, incidentally, could only have been a few times a year. Visitors to that wing of Azkaban are extremely rare. No one wants to associate themselves with them."

"So you're trying to say that Sirius was-"

"Literally, he was a dog for most of those thirteen years." Snape cut in, "and whilst he was a dog, his mind was unable to focus on thing like human grief, or even think about what had happened properly. Tell me, Potter, what would be the effect of a twenty-one year old waking up one day and realising he is now middle aged and feeling the raw grief of his friend's death as if it were yesterday. Not only that, but to have the pressure of needing to present himself as a father figure to a boy who is at mentally slightly younger than himself. Never mind that you are the most at-risk wizard in Britain."

Harry stared at Snape. "Why are you telling me this? Is it the truth?"

Snape's black eyes reflected Harry's in their obsidian depths. "Yes. And all who knew Black also knew he was immature for his age in any case," he continued, sidestepping Harry's first question. "No one would have trusted him with rearing a child, even if they thought his heart was in the right place. He must have realised the need to ignore the urge to act the age he feels he is to provide a father figure to you. Yet his own emotions would be working against his will to do what he had to do."

"So you're saying I'm being too hard on him." Harry said dully, his incredularity of it being _Snape_ who was saying this wiped out by his own guilt.

"Hardly." Snape replied "I only feel a need to point out that you are, quite normally for your situation, dealing with the guilt and shame of a parental figure rejecting you. Whereas you need to realise that you are looking at the situation from the wrong angle."

"What do you mean?" Harry said cautiously

"Black knows he should act like a responsible adult. He knows he should tell you he loves you-" Snape spat the words out like they were poison "-no matter who or what you are. But he received a substantial shock, and is suddenly unable to rid himself of his natural responses towards you."

"Which are?"

"He can't help but look at you as a peer more than a son. His reaction to you is most likely similar to the one Weasley had to you when he found out about your situation. Only Black does have _some_ sense," Snape said sourly as if he barely believed it "and choose instead to remain silent until he can govern his mind."

Harry stared at Snape. "Does it matter, whether or not he rejects me as a friend or a son? He still doesn't want me."

"Stop being melodramatic. It's your decision entirely whether it matters, Potter." Snape replied "But I don't remember you castigating yourself so much over Weasley's opinion of you."

"Sirius is different to Ron." Harry pointed out

"Only because you make it so. Black hardly feels he can ask a child to not have parental expectations of him, especially when it's his duty. It is clear to anyone who cares to look that he fails miserably as a parent. What people do miss, however, is that he's barely out of his teens himself in his own eyes, and is not ready to be a father."

"You're saying he doesn't want me?"

"Are you listening? Do you think your expectations would be such a burden to him if he wasn't so desperate to please you?"

"So what are you saying I should do?" Harry said fustratedly, feeling as if he must be going crazy to take advice about Sirius from Snape of all people.

"Treat him like a peer, not a parent. He feels some parental responsibility, and he wants to fulfil that role even if he cannot do it completely. Allow him to carry out parental acts of his choosing. Allowing him to buy you clothes, for instance, to give you fatherly advice and such." Snape said dryly " I would say allow him to discipline you, but the man has no discipline over himself, and I doubt you would do it anyway."

Harry watched in silence as the professor lifted his ladle again and proceeded to pour measures of the potion which had been bubbling away in front of them, into four crystal phials.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Harry said finally, eyeing the glowing purple concoction as Snape held them up to the light.

"Merely so that you will at last wrap your mind around the fact that the world does not revolve around you, and hence stop fidgeting and muttering pointlessly while I'm trying to work."

Harry scowled, but his heart wasn't in it. He wanted to believe that Snape really was giving duff advice just to shut him up, but his explanations had a ring of truth to them, and besides that, they eased the weight on Harry's shoulders, despite who the words had come from.

Snape was now clearing equipment and ingredients from the tables they had been arranged on for weeks.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, then suddenly hopeful, added "Are you finished our potion?"

"What do you think I was doing a moment ago?" Snape said dryly, inclining his head towards the cupboard where the four crystal vials were sitting, the potion inside them now dulling down from the vivid purple it had been. "Crystal vials do not come cheap, I'm hardly making a headache cure."

Heart racing, Harry jumped to his feet and was halfway out the door within seconds. He needed to tell Draco about this!

As the door slammed shut behind him Snape winced and decided he should have brewed a headache cure after all.

...ooo000ooo...

"Do you really want to change back?" Harry said suddenly.

Beside him, Draco frowned, putting the golden egg down. They were sitting side by side on the grass next to the lake, hidden from general view by a thicket of bushes. Draco had taken to carrying the egg with him everywhere, so that he could take it out at every opportunity to examine it, as if the casing held some kind of clue to the horrific noise contained within.

So far, the boys had had no luck whatsoever figuring out the noise, although they found themselves convulsively lying to everyone who asked them about it, at first just to keep Hermione at bay, because now that they were all talking – more or less – she had taken up her old habit of making sure everyone around her took their work seriously. For Draco and Harry, obviously, figuring out the egg's clue took the place of homework. Although she seemed extremely curious about what exactly it was that they had found out, thankfully she didn't ask them about it directly, though she clearly was dying to.

Now however, with less than a month to go to the tournament, Draco was too full of pride to admit to anyone that he hadn't figured it out. Harry admitted to himself that he suspected that Draco had stumbled across _something_ he wasn't talking about, because his face went magically blank whenever Harry quizzed him about it. He should have been upset that he was being lied to, but it had become a sort of game. Draco knew that Harry knew that Draco knew something. And the two of them could drop hints and shoot suspicious glances or superior smirks, but neither said anything directly. Only the apologetic smile and brush of lips on his that Draco gave him after each episode stopped Harry from feeling offended.

"Draco?" Harry prompted. "What do you think? The potions ready. We could take it any day now."

Draco stared out over the lake. "I'm not sure. I think I do. I want to be myself again." He looked back at Harry. "But...I'm already myself, aren't I? We'd just be maintaining the deception."

"Are you comfortable, being me?" Harry was genuinely curious. That, and his own feelings were too confused to even begin to rationalize.

"It's..." Draco began, then sighed. "I don't know. It doesn't feel _right_, and yet...I don't think I could go back to it all, as if nothing had happened. What about you?"

"I think I feel the same." Harry said slowly. "I – I think I am comfortable. I just want things both ways. I want my friends back, but I like not being stared at constantly. I like having parents. Well," he amended, smiling wryly "I like having a mother at least."

For a moment they merely watched the wind ripple the surface of the lake. It was still winter, and the air was bitingly cold, yet they barely felt it.

"If you think about it," Draco began slowly "we really just are who we are, no matter what skin we're in. I'm not the old me anymore, and you aren't either. If we're choosing a body, it's only to keep other people happy. Or to stop them being confused. Because whatever we do, I know I don't want to have to hide."

A lamp lit in Harry's mind, and things seemed ten times clearer. "Yes." He said "I don't want to pretend I'm you, but I don't want to have to pretend that I'm the same old me either." He snorted suddenly.

"What?"

"I'm just thinking. I've actually grown to like having nice clothes and looking good. I mean, I miss my old hair, but I'd like to keep the fashion sense."

Draco smirked. "Knew I'd get there eventually."

"I might even get new glasses." Harry said

"Or you could get your vision corrected permanently." Draco suggested in a tone that indicated he would very much like this to happen.

"Don't like my glasses, do you?" Harry challenged playfully, shoving at Draco's shoulder.

Draco allowed himself to be pushed over. "I just like your eyes." He said, holding Harry's gaze.

For a moment they stared at each other, and Harry was about to lean over when with a thump, the golden egg rolled towards the lake; Draco had knocked it down the slope as he had rolled over.

With unerring seeker's skill, Harry lunged after it, snatching it up.

"I suppose we should stop wasting time and figure this out." Draco said glumly, sitting up.

"Maybe it's not a magical creature." Harry suggested "Maybe it's a code we have to decipher."

Draco didn't answer.

"Draco?"

The boy looked miserable. "I had a thought, a few weeks ago." He said finally.

"Would this be the thought you've been avoiding telling me?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

Draco looked at the ground guiltily. "I'm sorry. It's just that...if I'm right – and I'm probably not," he added quickly "If I'm right, it probably involves water."

"Water?"

"The lake, specifically."

"Okaay." Harry said carefully, waiting for him to continue.

"Harry..." Draco looked away. "I don't like water."

Harry considered this. "I understand... you were hoping that by now you would have found a different explanation? You must _really _not like water."

Draco nodded sheepishly.

"So what's the screeching noise then?" Harry said, moving on quickly. Draco clearly didn't want to discuss his fear anymore than he had.

"I've never heard a real one," Draco said "but it sounds similar to a man I once heard talking Mermish. It was a long time ago though. It was Crabbe's dad actually. He claimed he could speak Mermish, and he tried to prove it at one of Mother's dinner parties, but of course no one else could understand it to verify it."

"But Mother wasn't pleased." Harry said, smirking at the thought of a full grown man bursting into shrieks and wails at a dinner party.

"Every time the Crabbes had to be at one of our functions, Mother made sure the house elves always stinted on their portions – particularly the Firewhisky."

They both snickered.

"So you think we'll have to go into the lake?" Harry said finally.

"We?"

"Well, we haven't decided whether we're going to get our old bodies back or not, but no matter what, we could always take the first dose and not the second."

"You want to do that?" Draco said warily "I won't lie, I don't want to do the task if it is what I think it is, but if we haven't decided within a month-"

"There won't be a second chance to take the second dose and make it permanent, I know." Harry finished

"I could always cast about twenty cheering charms on myself before I go into the water." Draco said bravely

"Your judgement would be impaired." Harry said dismissively "It would be the quickest way to drown yourself."

"We won't do that then." Draco said quickly

"Look, we need to decipher the clue first anyway. Do you know anyone who speaks Mermish?"

"I'll bet Granger has a phrasebook." Draco said "But why don't we try the library first."

Harry agreed hastily. No need to let Hermione know they had lied to her, after all.

...ooo000ooo...

"You – you really just stole from Snape's office?" Ron said, eyeing Draco as if he were a madman.

"Sev wasn't in." Draco shrugged dismissively, and Ron's eyes widened at the nickname and he took a step away. "He briefed us about it anyway." He handed Harry one of the purple-filled vials.

"Besides, we need to take it now if we want to be sure we're changed before the second task." Harry added in a voice that didn't betray his churning stomach as he grasped the cool crystal in his hand.

"Why does it need to be now?" Hermione said urgently. She had made no secret of her severe disapproval of this plan, but last night Draco had found out how to decipher Mermish in the library. He had headed straight for the Room of Requirement with Harry trailing after him, calling _'What do you mean, a swim?'_

"You can't just take such a risk with something so important –"

"Oh for goodness sake's Granger!" Draco said, uncorking the vial as Hermione lunged forward.

"You idiot!" she screeched as he tipped it back. Harry, watching him, shrugged and followed suit as Hermione began to rant at them.

"You don't even know how long it takes! What if it takes a week? How are you going to explain why you're halfway through what looks like a messed up Polyjuice attempt?"

Harry stopped drinking abruptly. Why hadn't they thought of that. He was just lowering the vial when Hermione began flapping her hands at him.

"Drink it up!" she ordered "Who knows what the effects are if you take it too slowly!"

Harry obeyed, now feeling a quiver of unease. He turned to Draco who stared back at him sheepishly. Nothing had happened.

What if Hermione was right?

"You're going straight to Professor Snape tomorrow morning, first thing." She told them.

"After breakfast," Draco countered "I refuse to approach him before he's had at least four cups of coffee."

...ooo000ooo...

They had had no choice but to carry on as if they had not taken the potion. Harry went back to Slytherin and Draco to Gryffindor that night. They might change in their sleep, which would be problematic, but not so much as it would be if they began to undergo the change in class.

As Harry lay in bed, he racked his brains as he went over the Mermish clue in his mind, just as he knew Draco must be doing up in the Gryffindor tower. He didn't really want to think about the consequences of their rashness of taking the potion. He had too much on his plate as it was; there was now mere days until the second task and they had only just uncovered the clue – but they had no plan for the task still.

_Come seek us where our voices sound._

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

So he had to seek the mermaids in the lake itself.

_And while you re searching, ponder this:_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

Harry had no idea what this could be. Would the judges be rifling through his possessions?

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour- the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back_

That was fairly obvious. There was a time limit, and exceeding it would not be a good idea.

Harry spent long hours lying awake that night, thinking through the clue and making plans for a thorough scouring of the library the next day. Obviously he would need a way to spend around an hour under water. It didn't sound so hard – there must be a charm out there, or a potion. Self consciously he was also staying awake because he was awaiting his body to change back. So far there was no sign of it though.

Rolling onto his side, Harry attempted to fall asleep. Flutterings of panic were starting to disturb him now, and he was finding it difficult to relax. Was this how Draco had felt before the First Task?

That night, Harry dreamt about the lake, which he had always taken for granted as just another feature of the grounds. He was sinking slowly into a great, iron-gray mass of chilly water, whose dark and icy depths were as distant as the moon, and as he tried desperately to swim, he only sunk faster into the water, which was as thick as molasses.

...ooo000ooo...

Staring into the mirror, Draco sighed heavily. It looked as if Hermione's prediction might come true after all. Harry's face stared back at him from the mirror.

Grabbing his book bag as he headed out from the dorm, he resigned himself to an early visit to Severus after breakfast. Maybe he would help Draco with the second task. There was probably a good potion for underwater travel.

As he approached the dining hall, his scalp began to itch intolerably. Thanking Merlin for Harry's mop of messy hair, he allowed himself a good scratch because he knew it wouldn't make a blind bit of difference.

_I better not have caught nits off Finnigan_, he thought idly as he walked into the Great Hall in Harry's usual manner (scuffing his feet slightly and his hands in his pockets). Finnigan was the most likely candidate for the source of such an ailment, he thought to himself. His accent simply screamed 'peasant!'...although then again Weasley was always a good bet for common diseases. His family did live in a 'burrow' after all. Who would call their home that, honesty?

It was interesting how he could think thoughts like this with umour now, instead of real malice. Gryffindor had changed him, and sometimes he did not realise quite how much. He wondered how much more would come out when he had to return to his old house, and how much Harry would have changed too.

He only noticed that everyone was staring at him when Neville dropped his pumpkin juice all over the table cloth.

"Easy does it, Nev!" he said cheerfully, sliding onto the bench. Suddenly he realised that the Gryffindor table had fallen silent around him. A feeling of intense foreboding gripped him as he looked up.

"Malfoy." Ron said steadily from across the table, his eyes trying to desperately warn Draco. "Why are you dressed like a Gryffindor?"

Draco took a moment to grab the nearest spoon and squint at his reflection. He didn't bother looking further than the platinum hair reflected back at him. He looked up, staring back at Ron, his mouth opening but devoid of words. He was growin aware of the hostile and shocked faces of everyone around him, as well as the rising buzz of whispers.

The rest of the hall had caught onto the growing silence, and more people were craning their necks to get a good look at what was going on.

Draco turned to stare desperately across the hall. Harry was staring back at him, looking panicked. He still looked like Draco though.

_Fuck._

There was nothing for it.

"MALFOY!" Draco roared, flinging himself off the bench and marching across the hall "What the hell have you done to me?!"

"Mr-" Professor McGonagall began, rising to her feet, but someone – either Snape or Dumbledore – pulled her back down into her seat where she spluttered indignantly.

Harry looked blank for a moment, though he too shot to his feet. "Nothing you weren't sorely in need of!" he drawled back after only a second's hesitation. "The rest of us were growing tired of staring at your ugly mug!"

"Outside!" Draco hissed at him, as soon as he was close enough to grab Harry by the collar.

"I'll take him on, on my own. Stay here." Harry ordered Crabbe and Goyle as they made to follow them. He made a show of shoving Draco away from him as they left the hall. "You'll be sorry, Malfoy!" he declared loudly. Draco winced. Potter's acting had improved, but that had been poor.

Some people at the other tables were making to get out of their seats to watch the fight, the foreign students either looking excited or disgusted, but Dumbledore stood up and demanded silence.

"Everyone, please continue with your meal. Severus?" he turned to the Potions Master, who nodded once and swept after the pair. Unnoticed by the headmaster, Professor McGonagall followed after, intent on making sure that Severus didn't heap all the blame on poor Harry.

...ooo000ooo...

Rather than really go outside, Harry immediately tugged Draco into the nearest doorway once they were in the Entrance Hall. His heart was thundering in his chest as he looked Draco up and down.

He shut the door behind them. They were in a disused classroom, but he barely paid his surroundings any attention. His attention was transfixed on the vision before him.

He hadn't seen Draco like this before. Ever.

When he'd looked up from his porridge in the Great Hall to see what the cause of the disturbance was, he had not expected to see Draco Malfoy looking back at him from Gryffindor, his red and gold tie askew and his hair mussed and slightly curled. It was unheard of.

It had taken his breath away. He had barely even been able to think of a comeback when Draco addressed him.

Even now, as he stared at the boy he had wasted a good deal of time hating, his eyes lingered on the slight tan to cheeks that had always been pale, and the careless slouch to shoulders accustomed to being ramrod straight.

As he stared, Draco shifted uncomfortably.

"How do you think-" Draco began, but Harry talked over him as if he couldn't hear.

"You're keeping this." He said, reaching up to touch Draco's hair.

"You like it?" Draco replied, amused, although if he had been able to see himself he would be horrified. "Missed the old me?" he teased.

He almost stopped breathing at the look Harry gave him, before he crashed his lips into Draco's.

Harry had wanted to kiss Draco properly for some time, but he had held back. The moment had never been right, or he had been struck by the weirdness of waiting to snog his own image. But now _Draco_ was back, the real Draco, and he wondered at how he had been able to glare at this face for the last three years and still believe himself to be heterosexual.

Now however, if the moment was not ripe, Harry didn't know what it was.

Draco melted under his touch, and Harry barrelled them into the desks behind him, and Draco's back had barely collided with the table top before a leg wound around Harry and Draco forced his way on top. Chairs clattered to the floor around them, but Harry heard nothing other than both of their frantic breathing, and saw nothing other than that face he had missed so badly without realising it. This time, Harry was the one turning to putty in Draco's hands, as his cool fingers ran up his sides underneath his shirt, and when he caught a flash of red and gold, he grabbed a hold of the tie, and used it to pull Draco even closer. Their bodies were moulded together now, Harry's lips felt bruised and sore already, but he did not care; Draco's tongue was in his mouth and he had never been closer to heaven.

Somewhere, as Harry and Draco managed to roll off the desks with a thump, he heard a distant bang. Perhaps he heard voices too.

It wasn't until Draco was very suddenly not in his arms, and his own back was thudding against the wall, that he realised that something was wrong.

Harry stared around in shock. When his eyes landed on Professor Snape, he felt a rush of cold horror.

"Shit."

"Forty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin." Snape said, looking utterly sick to his stomach.

Harry gaped back unseeingly, not understanding. Then Professor McGonagall entered the room, by means of a dead faint.


	21. 21

_A/N - Anyone who is quite familiar with canon will have already noticed that there are quite a few simple paragraphs of copy-paste in this fic. It's not usually block sections, as I go through them and make changes here and there, but just to be clear, I wanted to make sure it was known, as Arithmancy Master complimented me on several small things which are actually in canon (peeves hiding in suits of armor singing, live hooting owls on christmas tree, etc). Those thigns, and others are not my property. Neither, sadly, are Harry and Draco. _

All that Draco felt was burning shame.

Professor McGonagall had insisted, once she was revived by Professor Snape, that as his house head (as technically he was still playing Harry's role), she would be the one to host his detention.

Because of this, only one night to go before the Second Task, Draco was spending his evening writing lines in the Tranfiguration classroom.

_I will not use misuse potions and I will not indulge in indecent activities on Hogwarts premises._

_Indecent activities._

Draco found it hard to believe that any teacher would even attempt to seriously enforce that in a school of over a thousand hormonal teenagers.

He, Harry and Severus had had only a short time to concoct a reasonable explanation for the two Malfoys before McGonagall had been revived. Snape had looked utterly disgusted with the pair of them, particularly Draco for his blatant narcissism in making out with himself.

McGonagall was equally disgusted for the same reason, though just as shocked, if no more so, at the idea that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were seeing each other. It didn't help that the story they fed her had been along the lines of 'misusing potions for sexual intent' as Snape put it. They had protested vehemently at the idea of anyone thinking that Draco or Harry were so kinky, but Snape declared that that was his portion of the punishment for the pair of them for stealing from his office and taking the body swap potion without consulting him.

That there were _still_two Dracos after an entire day had briefly confused McGonagall, until Draco had used quick thinking to point out that the potency of the potion relied on the brewer's skill, and that 'Malfoy' had stolen from Snape himself who was a Potions Master of high rank.

What they would do if Harry's body did not transform very soon had yet to be decided.

The rest of the school whispered about the pair with some amusement. Thankfully a less embarrassing rumor had got around that Malfoy had dosed an oblivious Harry with polyjuice potion for a dare. Thankfully no one had got wind of any other details.

Up at her desk, McGonagall looked up as his quill stopped scratching to give him a pointed glare. Sighing, Draco returned to his lines. He tried to ignore as, for the fourth time that evening, McGonagall shook her head in disapproval before continuing marking papers.

…ooo000ooo…

"-utterly disgusted with both of you –"

"Merlin Sev, give it a rest!" Draco cut in loudly, thoroughly agitated at this point. "We were only snogging in an empty classroom, everyone's done it!"

Snape bore down on him like a dementor poised to attack.

"Clearly he hasn't." Harry muttered sullenly from his own desk, where he was still doing lines.

Snape's head twisted on his neck so fast it was almost comical. "What did you say Potter?"

For Harry had finally, _finally_ returned to his old form. Unfortunately for Draco, he had not had the chance to take advantage of this more distinguished, refined version of Harry Potter they way Harry had with himself earlier that day.

True, slicked back hair did not suit Harry in the slightest, but Draco was mesmerized with the way Harry still carried himself, and that he hadn't realized he would need to shake off the habit of pronouncing his words so precisely, and cut back on smirking and half-lidded cold stares. Draco didn't want him to stop either.

He had the airs of a pureblood Slytherin prince. In imitating Draco he had, in Draco's opinion, far outdone him.

"Draco!"

Draco snapped to attention as a heavy book was slammed down in front of him.

"Stop mooning and listen to me!" Snape snarled. "One would think neither of you had ever seen each other before!"

_I don't think I really have._Draco thought to himself as his eyes drifted back to Harry, who shot him what could only be described as a seductive smirk.

"Good lord!" Snape hissed, half to himself "Am I talking to the walls? Potter, Malfoy listen to me: in light of your recent behavior, I require both of you to report to either myself or Madam Pomfrey to discuss health matters."

Both boys frowned, confused, but at least listening to the Professor.

"Health…matters." Draco repeated

"What?" Harry said

"Before your relationship escalates to the point where precautions need to be taken." Severus clarified, and was gratified at the mortified expressions both students gave him.

"Absolutely not. I already know everything I need." Draco said very firmly and hastily, understanding immediately. Across the room, Harry gaped like a fish.

Snape merely stared back dispassionately. "It was not a request. Professor McGonagall quite agrees."

"But…but w_hy_?" Harry said finally, his face red. "Are you saying wizards can get pregnant?"

There was a moment of silence in which Draco and Severus could only exchange looks of disbelief.

"It's just," Harry blundered on realizing he had sounded like an idiot "why would I need to – er – take precautions?"

"In short," Snape said "to prevent veneral diseases spreading through the school."

Draco and Harry looked indignant, but before they could begin protestations and denials, Severus held up a hand.

"This is not up for discussion. You will choose yourselves whether to speak to Madam Pomfrey or myself."

"Well I'm not taking sex advice from _you_." Harry said, sounding utterly horrified.

Draco swung around in his seat. "Are you crazy? Do you want to tell Pomfrey about us!?"

"Well don't sound so horrified!" Harry shot back, hurt.

"I didn't mean –" Draco began

"You can have your lover's tiff later." Snape ordered. "Now decide."

…ooo000ooo…

Harry emerged from the dungeons triumphant.

In the end, excruciating as Snape's sex ed session had been, he and Draco had worked hard to make sure it was just as mortifying for the professor as it was for them.

They had elected to have the session with Snape, and as a couple rather than individually, just for the purpose of carrying out their plan.

They had interrupted Snape's lecture intermittently for the entire half hour with earnest and in depth questions about pleasure enhancement, often going into unnecessary detail, and asking about various acts that were either so kinky or so disgusting that they had great trouble keeping straight faces.

Snape had known exactly what they were up to, but was still bound to answer their questions, which meant the session was a success for the boys.

Just before they left, however, a fifth year appeared in the doorway asking for Draco Malfoy to report to the headmaster's office.

Snape seemed to know what it was about, and told Harry that he would see Draco tomorrow when both boys protested that they had plans for the rest of their evening.

"You don't understand," Harry moaned, distressed as Draco gathered together his things "we need to get to the library, to research for the task tomorrow!"

_Later._Draco mouthed at him from behind Snape's back before he left.

"You surely have done all your research by now?" the professor said incredulously

Harry replied by dropping his head into his folded arms.

"Please tell me you are not serious." Snape said "You have yet to solve the clue?"

"We solved it," Harry said, a ball of panic growing inside him as he realized that not only was he on his own now, but also that there was not guarantee of finding the information he needed in time "but I still don't know how I'm going to do it."

"The task is tomorrow morning!" Snape said unnecessarily

"I know!" groaned Harry "But there's been a lot going on in my life recently in case you hadn't noticed!"

There was a long moment of silence, until Harry finally got to his feet.

"I need to get to the library. I could still find something."

"Very well." Snape said, his voice oddly stiff "It is of no concern to me, as long as you refrain from plundering my potions ingredients."

"Right." Harry grumbled, making for the door.

"I have just received a large owl order of Mediterranean plants." Snape continued in the same voice. "It would be remiss of me not to upgrade the security on my personal stores."

Harry stopped dead, hand on the door knob. Mediterranean plants?

"I have decided to use one of my student's pet's names as my password until I change the wards tomorrow. No one will expect it."

Harry opened the door, respect for his least favorite professor dramatically increased.

…ooo000ooo…

The entrance hall contained a few last-minute stragglers, all leaving the Great Hall after breakfast and heading through the double oak doors to watch the second task. They stared as Harry flashed past, sending Colin and Dennis Creevey flying as he leapt down the stone steps and out onto the bright, chilly grounds.

Harry had waited for Draco outside Slytherin in his invisibility cloak until the very last minute, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Where was he? Didn't he care that Harry might not have found a way to breathe under water? Impossible. He must be ill ... why _had_he been called to the headmaster's office?

If Harry had not been so panicked about his own situation he would have ran to the hospital wing, or tracked down the headmaster to ask about it. As it was, he was running very late and could not afford to make any detours.

As he pounded down the lawn he saw that the seats that had encircled the dragons' enclosure in November were now ranged along the opposite bank, rising in stands that were packed to the bursting point and reflected in the lake below. The excited babble of the crowd echoed strangely across the water as Harry ran flat-out around the other side of the lake toward the judges, who were sitting at another golddraped table at the water's edge. Cedric, Fleur, and Krum were beside the judges' table, watching Harry sprint toward them.

"I'm . .. here ..." Harry panted, skidding to a halt in the mud and accidentally splattering Fleurs robes.

"Where have you been?" said a bossy, disapproving voice. "The task's about to start!"

Harry looked around. Percy Weasley was sitting at the judges' table – where was Mr. Crouch?

"Now, now, Percy!" said Ludo Bagman,"Let him catch his breath!"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry, but Karkaroff and Madame Maxime didn't look at all pleased to see him. ... It was obvious from the looks on their faces that they had thought he wasn't going to turn up.

Harry bent over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath; he had a stitch in his side that felt as though he had a knife between his ribs, but there was no time to get ridof it; Ludo Bagman was now moving among the champions, spacing them alongthe bank at intervals of ten feet. Harry was on the very end of the line, next to Krum, who was wearing swimming trunks and was holding his wand ready.

Finally, Bagman pointed his wand at his throat, said, "Sonorus!" and his voice boomed out across the dark water toward the stands."Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle. They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them.

On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three!"

The whistle echoed shrilly in the cold, still air; the stands erupted with cheers and applause; without looking to see what the other champions were doing, Harry pulled off his shoes and socks, pulled a handful of a slimy looking sort of weed out of his pocket, stuffed it into his mouth, and waded out into the lake.

The previous night he had been about to head to the library to research Mediterranean plants so that he knew what to look for in Snape's stores, when he had caught sight of Neville, who was reading on his bed.

It was odd, being back in Gryffindor so abruptly that it was almost as if he had never left, but equally it was like returning home. He knew that he had changed though, because his house mates often looked at him oddly when he spoke, or even when he just walked by. Even as he approached Neville, the other boy looked up, eyes flickering to Harry's shoulders for some reason. Unconsciously he shifted his posture.

"Neville?" he said, taking a chance "Do you know anything about ... Mediterranean plants?"

Of course he had. Neville might not be the smartest, or the coolest wizard, but in the one class he did do well at, he excelled.

He had turned up at Snape's office just after midnight under his cloak, looking for Gillyweed.

"Hedwig."he had said confidently to the door.

Nothing happened. The wooden door in front of him remained firmly locked.

Pet's name. Had he meant _pet_ name?

"Dunderhead." he tried.

Nothing.

It had taken him five minutes of repeating Snape's repertoire of insults before he thought of Draco in despair, wondering where he was.

A lightbulb flickered on in his brain, and he remembered Draco's owl.

"Chiron." He said, wanting to kick himself.

The door opened.

…ooo000ooo…

It was so cold he felt the skin on his legs searing as though this were fire, not icy water. His sodden robes weighed him down as he walked in deeper; now the water was over his knees, and his rapidly numbing feet were slipping over silt and flat, slimy stones. He was chewing the gillyweed as hard and fast as he could; it felt unpleasantly slimy and rubbery, like octopus tentacles. Waist-deep in the freezing water he stopped, swallowed, and waited for something to happen.

He could hear laughter in the crowd and knew he must look stupid, walking into the lake without showing any sign of magical power. The part of him that was still dry was covered in goose pimples; half immersed in the icy water, a cruel breezelifting his hair, Harry started to shiver violently. He avoided looking at the stands;the laughter was becoming louder, and there were catcalls and jeering from the Slytherins, and for a moment he felt quite depressed.

Then, quite suddenly, Harry felt as though an invisible pillow had been pressed over his mouth and nose. He tried to draw breath, but it made his head spin; his lungs were empty, and he suddenly felt a piercing pain on either side of his neck - Harry clapped his hands around his throat and felt two large slits just below his ears, flapping in the cold air. . . . He had gills. Without pausing to think, he did the only thing that made sense - he flung himself forward into the water.

The first gulp of icy lake water felt like the breath of life. His head had stopped spinning; he took another great gulp of water and felt it pass smoothly through his gills, sending oxygen back to his brain. He stretched out his hands in front of him and stared at them. They looked green and ghostly under the water, and they had become webbed. He twisted around and looked at his bare feet - they had become elongated and the toes were webbed too:

It looked as though he had sprouted flippers.

The water didn't feel icy anymore either ... on the contrary, he felt pleasantly cool and very light. . . . Harry struck out once more, marveling at how far and fast his flipper-like feet propelled him through the vater, and noticing how clearly he could see, and how he no longer seemed to need to blink. He had soon swum so far into the lake that he could no longer see the bottom. He flipped over and dived into its depths.

Silence pressed upon his ears as he soared over a strange, dark, foggy landscape.

He could only see ten feet around him, so that as he sped through the water new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the incoming darkness: forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered with dull, glimmering stones. He swam deeper and deeper, out toward the middle of the lake, his eyes wide, staring through the eerily gray-lit water around him to the shadow beyond, where the water became opaque.

Small fish flickered past him like silver darts. Once or twice he thought he saw something larger moving ahead of him, but when he got nearer, he discovered it to be nothing but a large, blackened log, or a dense clump of weed. There was no sign of any of the other champions, merpeople, his stolen posession - nor, thankfully, the giant squid.

Light green weed stretched ahead of him as far as he could see, two feet deep, like a meadow of very overgrown grass. Harry was staring unblinkingly ahead of him, trying to discern shapes through the gloom . . . and then, without warning, something grabbed hold of his ankle.

Harry twisted his body around and saw a grindylow, a small, horned water demon, poking out of the weed, its long fingers clutched tightly around Harry's leg, its pointed fangs bared - Harry stuck his webbed hand quickly inside his robes and fumbled for his wand. By the time he had grasped it, two more grindylows had risen out of the weed, had seized handfuls of Harry's robes, and were attempting to drag him down.

"Relashio!" Harry shouted, except that no sound came out. ... A large bubble issued from his mouth, and his wand, instead of sending sparks at the grindylows, pelted them with what seemed to be a jet of boiling water, for where it struck them, angry red patches appeared on their green skin. Harry pulled his ankle out of the grindylows grip and swam, as fast as he could, occasionally sending more jets of hot water over his shoulder at random; every now and then he felt one of the grindylows snatch at his foot again, and he kicked out, hard; finally, he felt his foot connect with a horned skull, and looking back, saw the dazed grindylow floating away, cross-eyed, while its fellows shook their fists at Harry and sank back into the weed.

Harry slowed down a little, slipped his wand back inside his robes, and looked around, listening again. He turned full circle in the water, the silence pressing harder than ever against his eardrums. He knew he must be even deeper in the lake now, but nothing was moving but the rippling weed.

Finally he decided on a direction and set off once more, careful to swim a bit higher over the weed to avoid any more grindylows that might be lurking there.

He swam on for what felt like at least twenty minutes. He was passing over vast expanses of black mud now, which swirled murkily as he disturbed the water. Then, at long last, he heard a snatch of haunting mersong.

_"An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took..."_

Harry swam faster and soon saw a large rock emerge out of the muddy water

ahead. It had paintings of merpeople on it; they were carrying spears and chasing

what looked like the giant squid. Harry swam on past the rock, following the

mersong.

_". . . your time's half gone, so tarry not_

_Lest what you seek stays here to rot. ..."_

A cluster of crude stone dwellings stained with algae loomed suddenly out of the

gloom on all sides. Here and there at the dark windows, Harry saw faces . . . alien looking, not at all what he had expected merpeople to look like. They had grayish skin and long, wild, dark green hair. Their eyes were yellow, as were their broken teeth, and they wore thick ropes of pebbles around their necks. They leered at Harry as he swam past; one or two of them emerged from their caves to watch him better, their powerful, silver fish tails beating the water, spears clutched in their hands.

Harry sped on, staring around, and soon the dwellings became more numerous; there were gardens of weed around some of them, and he even saw a pet grindylow tied to a stake outside one door. Merpeople were emerging on all sides now, watching him eagerly, pointing at his webbed hands and gills, talking behind their hands to one another. Harry sped around a corner and a very strange sight met his eyes.

A whole crowd of merpeople was floating in front of the houses that lined what looked like a mer-version of a village square. A choir of merpeople was singing in the middle, calling the champions toward them, and behind them rose a crude sort of statue; a gigantic merperson hewn from a boulder. Four people were bound tightly to the tail of the stone merperson.

Hermione and Cho Chang he recognized immediately. There was also a girl who looked no older than eight, whose clouds of silvery hair made Harry feel sure that she was Fleur Delacour's sister.

And beside her, hundreds of feet under the water he so feared, head lolling in the current, his hair billowing out like a silvery halo, was Draco.

All four of the hostages appeared to be in a deep sleep. Their heads were lolling onto their shoulders, and fine streams of bubbles kept issuing from their mouths.

Harry sped toward them in a panic, half expecting the merpeople to lower their spears and charge at him, but they did nothing. The ropes of weed tying the hostages to the statue were thick, slimy, and very strong, but as he tugged at the ones bound around Draco's chest, his hand knocked against a potions vial which was suspended from a silver chain around Draco's neck.

The potion was vaguely familiar looking to Harry, but luckily there was a small piece of parchment attached to the vial with string, with a message written neatly in waterproof ink.

_CALMING DRAUGHT. Administer immediately on resurfacing please._

The neat handwriting was Draco's. Harry would recognise it anywhere, having been forced to forge it for the last few months.

But was Draco even here? _Something you will sorely miss ... _but had he been kidnapped? The note indicated not, but Draco would never have agreed to this! Unless his 'dislike' of water was not as serious as Harry had gathered. But if that was so, then why the calming draught?

He could not float around thinking for too long; it had taken him far too long to find the place, and there was a time limit. He looked around. Many of the merpeople surrounding them were carrying spears.

He swam swiftly toward a seven-foot-tall merman with a long green beard and a choker of shark fangs and tried to mime a request to borrow the spear. The merman laughed and shook his head.

"We do not help," he said in a harsh, croaky voice.

"Come ON!" Harry said fiercely (but only bubbles issued from his mouth), and he tried to pull the spear away from the merman, but the merman yanked it back, still shaking his head and laughing.

Harry swirled around, staring about. Something sharp . . . anything . . .

There were rocks littering the lake bottom. He dived and snatched up a particularly jagged one and returned to the statue. He began to hack at the ropes binding Draco, and after several minutes' hard work, they broke apart. Draco floated, unconscious, a few inches above the lake bottom, drifting a little in the ebb of the water.

Harry looked around. There was no sign of any of the other champions. What were they playing at? Why didn't they hurry up?

He turned back to Hermione, unsure whether he should rescue her as well. She was important to him too, after all. He knew she must be Krum's hostage though...

After a moment, he raised the jagged rock, and began to hack at her bindings - At once, several pairs of strong gray hands seized him. Half a dozen mermen were pulling him away from Hermione, shaking their green-haired heads, and laughing.

"You take your own hostage," one of them said to him. "Leave the others ..."

Harry treaded water for a moment, staring at Hermione. What would happen if Krum didn't turn up?

_...the prospects black...too late it's gone, it won't come back..._

This was a school competition though, wasn't it? Dumbledore would never let students get hurt, or die.

Unhappily, but deciding to put his trust in the headmaster, Harry pulled Draco close and kicked off. Before the lake floor disappeared into the gloom however, he thought he saw Cedric darting into the square.

Conscience assuaged, Harry began the ascent to the surface in earnest.

It was very slow work. He could only use one of his webbed hands to propel himself forward; he worked his flippers furiously, but Draco's usually lithe frame felt like a potato-filled sack dragging him back down. ... He fixed his eyes skyward, though he knew he must still be very deep, the water above him was so dark, . . .

After what seemed like ten minutes, Harry's legs were seizing up with the effort to keep swimming; his shoulders were aching horribly with the effort of dragging the dead weight...

He was drawing breath with extreme difficulty. He could feel pain on the sides of his neck again ... he was becoming very aware of how wet the water was in his mouth .. . yet the darkness was definitely thinning now... he could see daylight above him.. ..

He kicked hard with his flippers and discovered that they were nothing more than feet...water was flooding through his mouth into his lungs ... he was starting to feel dizzy, but he knew light and air were only ten feet above him ... he had to get there ... he had to ...

Harry kicked his legs so hard and fast it felt as though his muscles were screaming in protest; his very brain felt waterlogged, he couldn't breathe, he needed oxygen, he had to keep going, he could not stop –

And then he felt his head break the surface of the lake; wonderful, cold, clear air was making his wet face sting; he gulped it down, feeling as though he had never breathed properly before, and, panting, pulled Draco up with him.

_A/N - apologies for copy/paste dump. Harry did the second task both in my fic and in canon, it wasn't important to my plot to change it so I didn't. I didn't want to skim over it, and I thought it would be better just to use it straight from canon (a few alterations have been made all the way through obviously - for instance Bagman didn't talk to Harry as I wasn't interested in having his Goblin episode in my fic)._

_Please let me know by PM if my chapters are muddled up, I fixed up chapters 15 onwards and I think I posted them in the right order but there is always a chance it got messed up. _

_PS - I recently re-read Arithmancy Master's review and noted that I had not said anywhere in this fic so far that Snape is actually Draco's godfather. It was stupid of me, but I actually forgot that this wasn't canon! Too much fanfic reading for me, oh dear..._


	22. Chapter 22

The crowd in the stands was making a great deal of noise; shouting and screaming, they all seemed to be on their feet; Harry had the impression they thought that Draco might be dead, but they were wrong . . . he had opened his eyes and was spluttering fantastically.

Harry grinned at him as the applause roared in the distance, though confused shouts, probably at the identity of his hostage, were also ringing out. He didn't allow himself to begin thinking about how they were going to explain why Draco would be 'sorely missed' by Harry Potter. In his peripheral vision he saw Cedric surfacing some distance away. Assuming Krum and Delacour had not came up yet, he was the first back – the second task was a success!

He waited for Draco to stop coughing before moving, but sharp fingers were now clutching at Harry's body, the nails digging in, hurting him, Draco's eyes wide and panicked.

"It's okay, calm down." Harry said, fear prickling at him as he realised within an instant of looking at him that Draco's fear of water was far more serious than he had let on. He was now transferring all his weight to Harry, his arms so tightly around his neck that Harry was listing to the side in the water, feet kicking frantically to keep them both afloat.

"Draco!" Harry said loudly, trying to sound calm and commanding "I can swim, I'll get us ashore – stop kicking!"

For Draco's legs were flailing wildly under the water, and Harry winced as his feet connected hard with his shins more than once.

"Draco – "

His body as a dead weight had been difficult to deal with, but now Harry was finding it harder and harder to keep both of their faces above water, and he had to fight his own instincts now, which were urging him to push away the flailing mass and swim away. Draco was now pressing down on Harry's shoulders in an attempt to push himself higher, and for a moment Harry was shoved under. When he resurfaced, he had no choice but to fill his lungs with air, and bellow "KEEP STILL!", before he disappeared under the water again.

Draco's kicking stopped suddenly, and Harry was able to kick hard enough to keep his nose and mouth above the waves. Draco was gripping him even more tightly, but he seemed to have managed to stop himself from kicking. Harry could not keep this up much longer though, he angled himself so that he could see the shoreline near the judges, and saw that several people were pushing a boat into the water.

For a moment he calmed slightly – until he caught sight of something else.

Above the crowd - a blurred mass was all he could make out with his glasses lenses so wet - was an enormous screen. And on that screen was what Harry could not see, because Draco had now pulled himself against his chest, so that his chin was on Harry's shoulder, facing behind him.

Draco's face, stretched to ten feet tall to fill the frame, was plastered up for all the world to see. One violently trembling hand was also visible, clasped to the back of Harry's head, which was just a black blur to Harry, but he could just make out his neck beneath it. The fear on Draco's face was evident, even with the water on his glasses, and Harry could just hear jeers and laughter beginning to ring out.

Anger spurred him to take action. Trying to speak as calmly as he could, he said, "Draco, you have a potion hanging around your neck. I need you to take it."

Draco's arms loosened slightly, and he moved away. One hand moved to grasp for the potion, and for a moment they were face to face and up close, Harry could see droplets on Draco's cheeks which he was sure were not lake water.

Fighting the urge to curse, he prayed that that much wasn't visible on the big screen, however the shouts and catcalls told otherwise.

"I won't let you drown." Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see himself on the screen, and although sound wasn't transmitted too, he could see his lips moving clearly. There was nothing sensible he could do except ignore it, but his temper overruled him – he quickly pushed a hand above water and flipped his middle finger in the direction of whatever was capturing the pictures.

Laughter roared from the stands, and Draco tensed up against Harry.

"I flipped the camera the bird." He told Draco, hoping to make him laugh, but Draco's eyes shut briefly in despair.

"Camera?" he said, coughing a little as he spoke. Harry could hear the humiliation in his voice.

"Don't think about it." He said firmly "Now drink the potion, I've got you. You're safe. A boat's coming." Under the water, he rubbed Draco's back comfortingly with his hand.

Draco closed his eyes again, fortifying himself, before reaching for the potion. He could barely get the cork out, so Harry took it from him and used his teeth, then returned it. Despite his now violently shaking hand, Draco upended the vial into his mouth. Although he coughed very hard for a good thirty seconds, he managed to get it all down, then pulled Harry closer.

"Shit." He was whispering between little coughs "Shit, shit, shit!"

"You're alright." Harry said "You're going to be fine."

Finally, Draco's tremors grew less severe, and Harry thought that by now the potion must have kicked in – at least he hoped so, because the muscles in his legs were about to give out. The applause had long faded away, and the jeers were growing louder. Looking around, Harry could see the boat, but it wasn't close enough yet. Cedric and his own hostage, Cho, were nowhere to be seen, they must have swum to shore already.

"Draco," he said loudly, hoping that his voice would block out the cruel shouts from the shore somewhat, "I need you to do little kicks – but do them very fast, and keep your legs straight."

Draco complied, but almost immediately kneed Harry in the thigh very hard.

"Don't bend your knees!" Harry said immediately, his hand dropping to protect his more tender parts. "Keep your legs completely straight!"

With Draco following his instructions, Harry began to help him swim towards the boat, though his muscles were burning with pain.

It was Bagman who pulled Draco out of the water; evidently as an ex-quidditch player he must have thought he had some expertise in sports injuries. However as soon as part of Draco was on the boat, the rest of him followed too quickly as Draco shoved the judge aside and almost threw himself onto the deck by Bagman's and Madame Pomfrey's feet.

Harry hauled himself up while Bagman rubbed his ribs where Draco had knocked against him and Pomfrey threw a large red towel around Draco and forced a Pepper-up potion into his mouth, before doing the same to Harry.

By time they reached the shore, a large crowd had gathered, Ron, Hermione, Blaise, Pansy, Theo, and the rest of the fourth year Slytherins fighting to stay at the front. Thankfully Madame Pomfrey kept a firm grip on Draco, forcing him to stumble to the medi-tent. Unfortunately Harry could not hide that Draco was clutching his hand like a lifeline; their arms were stretched tight as Pomfrey dragged them through the mass of people, steam from the Pepper-up gushing from both their ears.

"Oh Harry," Hermione whispered, her hair still sodden from her time under water "that was awful to watch. Is he okay?"

"What _I _want to know," Pansy said loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the tent (which included the other champions and their friends, as well as the judges) "Is why _Draco_ was Potter's hostage!"

The tent fell silent, and everyone turned to look at his group, eyes seeking the pair out as if they were expected to declare themselves.

Harry froze up. He had not planned for this. His eyes were stuck on Pansy. Why had she had to say it just like that? The way her eyes were set on Draco though, Harry thought she was already guessing. He had come to know her ways quite well in the relatively short time he had been her friend, and it couldn't have been completely missed by her that Draco had been seen in his prescence so often, no matter how they treid to hide it.

It was Draco who acted. He was only a few feet away, sitting on a camp bed and still wrapped in the towel. His eyes were red and he was still very damp, but his exxpression was defiant. Harry could tell he was still feeling the humiliation of his panic displayed to hundreds of people, but he merely glared at everyone, getting up from the bed and walking towards the door.

As he passed Harry, he held out his hand.

"Let's go." He said, not troubling himself to lower his voice. Someone gasped dramatically, and despite the tension of the moment, Harry wanted to roll his eyes.

Harry took the outstretched hand, allowing Draco to thread their fingers together, though hhis heart was in his throat and he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to hide his face or not. Draco walked a little ahead, so that their hands were completely visible, and Harry fought to keep his face nonchalant as someone squeaked "Oh my _god_!"

The moment they were out of the tent, Harry expected to be released, but instead Draco put his arm around his waist.

"We're really doing this." Harry said, blood pounding in his ears, eyes searching frantically for a hidden corner somewhere where he could take a moment to discretely hyperventilate.

"Too late now." Draco replied, and his voice sounded strained as he lead Harry around the side of the tent where there were less people

For a moment they simply stood, still shivering slightly, with Draco's arm like a vice around his middle.

"This is going to be awkward." Harry said finally

"Are you ashamed of this?" Draco said immediately, his arm withdrawing.

"No!" Harry said immediately, throwing his arm over Draco's shoulers "No. I – It's just, being stared at all the time was bad enough before. Now-"

"I understand." Draco said quietly "It was hard, these past few months. I liked all the attention for a while, but after a week it got annoying fast. I suppose it didn't help that you just had a few months of reprieve as well."

"I think they're announcing the scores." Harry said suddenly, as he heard the sound of Bagman's amplified voice, and the quietening of the audience in the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows. . . . "

Draco tugged on Harry's arm and they tried to shuffle out from the side of the tent inconspicouosly. No one seemed to be looking their way, but Harry was still reluctant to move too far away from their hiding place, and Draco seemed to understand this as he didn't make him move any further than they had to, though he was craning his neck to see the judges.

"Fleur Delacour, though she demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

Applause from the stands.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was second to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour."

Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; Harry saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look. "We therefore award him forty-seven points."

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was third to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

Harry could see Karkaroff clapping particularly hard, looking very superior.

"Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect to rescue his hostage," Bagman continued. "In addition, the judges want to recognise his ability to remain calm and act wisely in the following struggle that ensued when his hostage was unable to swim – although the judges voted against awarding bonus points. However...Mr. Potter's score is fifty points."

Harry's stomach leapt – he had gotten full points! He was about to turn to Draco and share an elated grin when he felt warm breath in his ear and froze.

"We're tied with Diggory now," Draco murmured, and Harry shivered with something that wasn't cold as he felt the proximity of Draco's lips to his ear. "We could win this."

Harry smiled, reaching out for Draco's hand again. "We? Who did all the work?"

"I did most of the research!" Draco said indignantly, moving away slightly.

"You spent most of the time procrastinating." Harry pointed out

"Only because I knew it would probably involve swimming in the lake." Draco said, more subdued.

"Hey," Harry squeezed his fingers "you did really well, considering everything. "

"Everyone saw me blubbing like a baby." Draco said, scowling now

There was an awkward pause, interrupted by Bagman's voice.

"The third and final task will take place at dusk on the twenty-fourth of June," the voice eachoed over the grounds. "The champions will be notified of what is coming precisely one month beforehand. Thank you all for your support of the champions."

_One month? _Harry thought, relief flooding through his veins, _that's not so bad. _He turned to share this thought with Draco, but he continued to pout and look upset.

"You shouldn't have let them make you be a hostage." Harry said, rubbing his thumb over his. "I wouldn't have ever made you do it."

"I wanted to." Draco lifted his chin, features defiant again "I didn't want you to 'sorely miss' anyone else!"

Harry laughed, then sobered quickly as he saw Ron and Hermione in the crowd that was milling about nearby. "Heads up." He said quietly, nudging Draco, who gulped.

"Maybe we should have kept this low-key a little longer." Draco admitted suddenly as Hermione caught sight of them and turned so quickly she might have been trying to apparate. Harry had to fight the urge to flee as she bore down on them, her expression foreboding.

**A/N: Well guys, the response to my last couple of chapters was kind of underwhelming. No reviews? That makes me sad. **

**:(**

**You guys should know by now that reviews make my brain cogs whir…**


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